Page 32 of Endgame
Now will be a good time to stop kissing her. I’ve gotten what I wanted. Winston, pissed. Aurora, hurt.
Wish I could. Lost in this moment, I drop my phone on the bed. Aurora’s cheeks are soft in my palms, the grip on her allowing me to change the angle of her face. To steal more of her.
The spoiled princess digs her fingers into my shirt as her tongue keeps testing, trying.
As if she’s never been kissed before.
I bite her, and she groans. She’s still surrendering to me. Still searching for me.
Fuck, I’m enjoying this.
This can’t be happening.
One more taste, and I flip her over onto her back. Aurora is pinned beneath me, whimpering, panting.
I really have to stop. I should leave her wanting.
Dammit. I—God, one more. Another one.
The more we kiss, the more I realize just how beautifully inexperienced she is.
I want out of this room.
I want to crawl under her skin.
Both of us are at war with one another. Lips clashing. Tongues fighting.
Her skirt is in the goddamn way. I shove it up her waist, push her knees apart, and settle between her legs.
Aurora is following my lead, and it turns me right the fuck on.
She loves the angry way I kiss her. The harsh bite of my fingers. When I sink my teeth into her bottom lip, her breath hitches before she moansYes.
I feel the word vibrating on her throat when she says it. A hand on her inner thigh has her back arching off the bed.
Giving her pleasure has never been part of the plan.
I grit my teeth and remind myself that this is a form of control. This is power. Not some fucked-up connection.
“Enough.” I rip myself off her seductive mouth, breathing hard.
Aurora’s supple lips glisten, tempting me. And her eyes, they’re so sad. How fucking heartless of her. Trying to convince me that she’s someone worth saving. An innocent who could give me what I need.
Liar. Like father, likeadoptedchild.
“Why?” She reaches up to cup my cheek.
I bat it away.
“Do I look like I’m in a sharing mood?” My eyebrows crash together, and she sees me for who I am, shrinking into the bed with fear.
“You obviously hate me.” Her voice is small. Scared. Perfect. “So… Why are we getting married again?”
She doesn’t get it, even after the phone call.
She has no idea how badly her father wronged me and my family.
Or maybe she does.
