Page 98 of Devious Corruption
He steps toward me, pushing me back against the counter. Caging me in, he presses his hands into the counter’s edge on either side of me.
A shiver crawls down my spine when I bring my gaze back in line with his intense stare. His lips are thinned with frustration.
“You’re not a visitor here, Max,” he says with a growl in his tone. He leans in. “You’re mine.”
My brain short circuits.
“Say it.”
“Say what?” I lick my lips. Did someone turn the heat up too high today? I’m going to start sweating soon.
“Say you’re not a guest. Say you’re mine. I need to hear you say it.”
“But—”
“If you say anything else, I’ll punish you.”
He means it. Everything in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and his shoulders screams that he’s not playing around.
And I think he needs it. He needs to hear me say the words.
Someone throw me a lifeline here, because I want to give them to him.
“I belong here.” The words fall from my lips, carelessly. Easily.
There’s no shoving them back in now, they’re out there.
“I belong to you.”
The air crackles between us. Like I’ve lit the end of a firecracker with my words.
His lips curl up at the edges. His eyes wrinkle at the sides.
“Good girl,” he coos, kissing me.
There’s no tenderness, no sweetness now. Only hungry need.
“Say it again, tell me who you belong to. Tell me you’re mine.” He drags his teeth over my bottom lip.
“I’m yours.”
He growls, gripping the hem of my shirt and yanking it up over my head. It gets thrown somewhere in the kitchen.
“Lev!” I cover my chest. “Someone could walk in.”
“They wouldn’t fucking dare.” He bites down on my shoulder, picking me up and putting me on the countertop.
He grabs my wrists, pinning them behind me.
The air is cool against my heated skin. Or maybe it’s his gaze dragging over me now that he has me half naked in front of him.
It’s unnerving having his intent stare lingering on me.
He licks his bottom lip, like he’s deep in thought. Planning what to do with me.
To me.
He puts his hands on my knees, pulling them apart so he can step between. Slowly, he drags his palms over my thighs. Even through my jeans, my skin soaks in his heat, leaving a trail of fire as he gets to the zipper.
