Page 90 of Intense
“Fucking beautiful,” I murmur, almost to myself.
Her lips purse. She’s trying to make this clinical. Rob it of power.
Too bad.
She can strip me of everything but control.
“Next,” I rasp.
God, I’ve never wanted someone to fail so badly.
To break.
To beg.
Because if she does, I’ll own her.
“You’re halfway there, temptress.”
I’m pushing her, wanting her to spiral into insanity with me.
“Take off the bra,” I press.
She tosses it to the floor like it means nothing. Her nipples harden instantly, and I almost groan. My mouth fucking waters.
I step forward until I’m in front of her again.
Her breath hitches when I raise a single finger and drag it up her bare stomach, between her breasts, tracing that beautiful snake ink.
And finally to her throat.
I don’t squeeze this time.
I don’t have to.
She’s already mine. It’s like she knows what I need, how she has to submit to me eventually. Because this isn’t about if or when; it's inevitable.
“I asked you to strip for your divorce,” I whisper, brushing my lips against her temple. “Not because I wanted a show.”
Her breath shudders out. “Then what the hell do you want?”
I smirk, but my voice is hoarse when I speak. I can’t hide my desire. My want.
“I wanted to see how much pride you’d sacrifice… just to walk away from me.”
I back away slowly, letting my eyes rake over her once more.
And I see it. Clear as day.
She doesn’t want to walk away at all.
Not yet.
Not when she’s burning.
Not when we both are. And I don’t think I have it in me for her to turn her back on me again. I’m too far gone.
This is a fucking nightmare, against everything I’ve built to protect myself from harm.
