Page 62 of Break Her Heart
“See?” she whispered. “I knew you still wanted me.”
She thought she could control this. Controlme.
But she didn’t know how dangerous this game was.
I couldn’t handle this. I had to show her that I was the one in control. Not her. I rose slowly, unbuttoning my shirt. Her bravado faltered—her arms came up, covering herself like I hadn’t already memorized every inch of her.
Then my pants hit the floor with a soft thud. Her gaze dropped instinctively. She hadn’t meant to look, but she did—and when her eyes found my hard-exposed length, they widened. A pink flush crept up her neck. I couldn’t help the slow, wicked smile that pulled at my lips. She quickly looked away, but it was too late. I saw it. She still wanted me. And gods, I wanted her to know it.
I stepped into the bath without a word. She tensed, shifting backward until her spine pressed against the porcelain wall, trying to retreat. But there was nowhere to go. Her pulse thundered in my ears. The scent of her—arousal, defiance, the coppery trace of blood—wrapped around me like a noose.
I leaned back, water lapping up my chest, and draped my arms along the rim of the tub behind her.
Close. Caged.
I tilted my head and let my eyes drag slowly over her face. “Don’t think you can win this, Winnie.”
I forced my gaze to stay on her face. Her skin glistened, water catching the flicker of candlelight. My voice was low, controlled—but beneath it, the hunger stirred. Not just for her blood. But for her.
She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t move. “Then what are we doing here?”
I leaned in, just enough for her to feel the brush of my breath. “You tell me. You drew the blood. You issued the invitation.”
“I thought you were trying to stay away from me,” she whispered.
“I was.” I glanced down at the rippling water between us. “And yet here we are.”
She reached out, fingertips brushing my chest. It wasn’t gentle. It was a test—measuring just how far I’d let her go.
“Do you feel nothing for me?” she asked.
I closed my eyes, jaw flexing. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
My eyes snapped open. She was closer now. The distance between us reduced to nothing. I could hear her blood pulsing, feel the heat of her body through the water.
“Actually I do feel something,” I said, jaw clenched. “The need to drain you of every drop of blood.”
She leaned in until our lips almost touched. “Then do it.”
I was a breath away from disaster. “You keep pushing me. You want to see what happens when I stop holding back?”
She tilted her head slowly to the side, exposing the delicate column of her throat. Her black waves spilled off her shoulder, revealing bare, flushed skin. The pulse in her neck fluttered visibly. “Yes.”
My restraint shattered.
With a sharp inhale, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into my lap. She gasped—whether from surprise or anticipation, I couldn’t tell. Her thighs pressed to either side of mine, her hands braced against my chest. I didn’t give her time to think. My lips found her throat, brushing the skin where her pulse throbbed like a drum. She arched into me as I sank my fangs in.
It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t violent. It wasintimate. Deep and slow. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, not to push me away but to pull me closer. I drank just enough to taste her. To feel her.
When I finally pulled back, her chest was heaving. Her lips parted. Her eyes glazed. She was still in my lap, still holding onto me like she didn’t want to let go.
Too far. This was going too far.
My hands lingered on her waist a moment longer than they should have. Her breath ghosted against my cheek, shallow and warm, her pulse still racing from the bite. It would be so easy to stay there. To let her pull me under again.
But I couldn’t.
