Page 119 of Captive Audience

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“Say it,” he demanded.

“Say what?”

“At the party, you called me your husband.” He closed his eyes. “You don’t know what hearing that did to me. So say it again, Asha. Tell me what I am to you, even if it’s a lie.”

I hesitated.

They were simple words. I could say them, and they didn’t have to mean anything.

But they did. More than I cared to admit.

And while I was having this inner moment of brutal honesty, maybe it was time to admit that some fucked-up part of me wanted this to be real.

The marriage. The relationship. The ring.

All of it.

But that was crazy.

With the roller coaster of a night I’d had, I couldn’t trust my emotions right now. Logic would prevail tomorrow, surely.

But for this moment, I could pretend. Maybe I wanted to role-play this just as much as Rook did.

I slid my fingers through his hair. “You’re my husband.”

A deep, satisfied groan came from his chest. “Aye. Keep going.”

“And I’m your wife. I’m yours. Only yours.”

His eyes flashed with something dark, something primal. “That’s right, Wildfire. You’re fucking mine. And I’m never letting you go.”

Then his lips rushed to meet my own.

45

ASHA

Rook’s kiss was hard. Possessive. Devastating.

There was no slow exploration. Just lips and teeth and tongues colliding with an intensity that burned hotter than the sun.

My back slammed into the wall. He crowded me in, thigh shoved between my legs, hands everywhere. My hair, my face, my ass. Tugging, gripping, claiming.

“Say it again,” he rasped against my lips.

“I’m yours.”

A savage growl tore from his throat, and his hips ground against mine.

And…oh God, he was hard.

So hard it made me dizzy.

So hard it made meache.

The next moment, he tugged off my sweats and tore away my panties.

Then he lifted me, and my legs wrapped around his waist automatically.

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