Page 69 of Break Her Heart
The crowd gasped as one.
August didn’t say a word. His face was still—dangerously calm. But his eyes, those eyes, were burning. A feral, possessive fury blazed behind them, locked on me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity.
And finally, finally, I knew I had his attention.
21
August
What the fuck was she thinking?
I took her out of the great room, ordering everyone to stay where they were. I could kill her. I could kill everyone in that room. That fucking idiot who thought he could touchmyWinnie?
He’d better fucking run before I get back in there. But then I noticed it. The flush still blooming across her cheeks. The way her chest heaved, shallow breaths slipping through parted lips. How she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She was radiant in that chaos, in the aftermath. And I had done exactly what she wanted me to do.
Which only pissed me off more.
I took a step toward her, fists clenched, and she matched it—like she was daring me to keep coming. Like she wanted to see how far I’d go.
I slammed her against the wall but held the back of her head so my hand took most of the impact, the sound echoing down the corridor. “What are you doing?”
She smiled, damn near glowing in the dim light, and ducked under my arm to ascend the stairs. Impossible, defiant,beautifulwoman.
I was in front of her again, my hand wrapping around her throat before I even knew I’d moved. Her skin burned beneath my fingers.
“I thought you said you felt nothing,” she whispered.
My hand flexed.
“But it sure looks like you hate me right now. Maybe a little jealous, even.”
That smile again. That beautiful, infuriating smile that I wanted to kiss and erase in the same breath.
“What are you trying to do?”
She looked up at me, innocence painted across her face. “What was it you said? Take everything you hate and make it yours.”
“Winnie,” I warned. I told her we couldn’t be together. I thought she understood.
“Well, I’m already yours, remember?”
Her hands trailed down my chest, nails scratching lightly over the fabric, until they reached the waistband of my pants. My whole body responded—tight, aching, furious with want.
No. You don’t want this.
“Hurt me. Break me. Show me just how much you hate me.”
I pulled her lips to mine, hard, savage. She whimpered into my mouth, and I slammed her against the wall again, needing to hear it again.
“We can’t,” I whispered against her lips, even as my hands dug into her waist like she was the only real thing I’d ever touched.
She looked up at me with those damn eyes—emerald and endless and shining with the storm we both refused to outrun.
“Ruin me, August.”
I wanted her to hate me. Hate me to the point that if it came down to it, she would burn this castle down and me along with it if it meant she would be safe. And I thought, even though she wanted me, she did hate me. Just enough.
But then I remembered—
