33

ALINA

I didn’t know what scared me more.

The heat curling low in my belly or the look in his eyes when he kissed me.

It was wild. Consuming. Like he hadn’t just watched me fall apart from his hands alone but still wanted more. Needed more.

And the worst part? I kissed him back. Just like the last time. My body took control and acted without my consent.

My fingers were still trembling. I felt boneless, like the orgasm had melted something inside me. But when his mouth met mine, all I could think about was how soft his lips were. How demanding his tongue felt as it swept into my mouth like he owned it. Like he owned me.

Maybe he did.

The kiss was rough and raw and desperate. I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve remembered all the reasons why this was wrong. Why I should hate him. But I didn’t move.

I just let him devour me.

His hands were everywhere. On my back, gripping my hips, sliding down to cup my ass like he’d been waiting for the chance. He lifted me with so little effort I gasped, and the towel finally fell. I didn’t even reach for it.

I was already bare.

Already ruined.

I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself. My legs tightened around his waist as he carried me out of the bathroom, straight into the bedroom. My mind was spinning, heart in my throat, but I still didn’t stop him.

Because the second I looked into his eyes, I saw it. That same hunger. That same shadow of something I couldn’t name. It pulled me in.

He dropped me onto the bed like I weighed nothing. And then he just stood there, staring at me.

My hair was wet. My skin was still damp. I should have felt cold, but my body was burning.

And the way he looked at me…

It wasn’t just lust. It was obsession.

I reached down, trying to pull the sheets over me. I needed space, time to think. But he was already crawling onto the bed, slow and deliberate, a predator stalking its prey.

“I told you not to hide from me,” he murmured, voice thick with warning.

I froze.

He grabbed the edge of the sheet and yanked it away in one swift pull, leaving me completely exposed.

“Alexander—” My voice cracked.

His gaze dragged down the length of me. He hadn’t even undressed yet, but somehow, I felt naked in more ways than one.

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

My breath caught.

He leaned over me, bracing his hands on either side of my head. The weight of him, the scent of him, the heat rolling off his skin—everything overwhelmed me.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, almost like he was asking himself.

I didn’t have an answer.

Because I didn’t know what he was doing to me either.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream at him for making me feel this way.

But when he brushed his nose against my throat, when his lips grazed my collarbone, my body betrayed me again.

I moaned.

A soft, breathy sound I couldn’t hold back.

He growled. A sound so low and deep it made my thighs clench.

“You like this,” he said, voice dark. “Don’t lie.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

Because the truth was worse than anything I could say out loud.

Yes. I liked it.

I liked the way he made me feel. Like I was the only thing that mattered. Like he could tear the world apart and still come back to me.

But I also hated it.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not with him.

Not like this.

He slid a hand down my side, over my ribs, then cupped my breast again, thumb brushing over my nipple. My back arched. My fingers dug into the sheets.

“You’re so responsive,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “I could spend hours playing with you.”

“Please…” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for. For him to stop? For him to never stop?

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

I hesitated.

And that hesitation was enough.

His mouth came down on mine again, and I was lost.

His hand moved between my thighs. I gasped when his fingers found how wet I still was. His eyes darkened, something wicked flashing behind them.

“So wet for me,” he said, voice reverent.

Then he kissed my jaw, my throat, my chest. His tongue flicked over my nipple and I cried out, hips jerking. He moved lower, spreading my legs with one hand.

I grabbed his shoulder. “Wait—”

He stilled.

His eyes met mine again. That flicker of darkness was still there, but now there was something else. Restraint. Barely.

“If you want me to stop, say it,” he said, voice hoarse. “But if you don’t…”

I swallowed hard. My heart thudded against my ribs.

“I—I don’t know what I want,” I whispered.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over my thigh. “Then let me show you.”

And then he lowered his mouth between my legs and all thought vanished.

The first touch of his tongue made me cry out. My hands flew to his hair, gripping tight. He groaned into me, like he enjoyed my taste. Like this was his reward.

I writhed under him, heat building fast and sharp, the pleasure blinding. He licked, sucked, teased. His fingers dug into my thighs, keeping me open, exposed, helpless.

My second orgasm crashed over me harder than the first.

I screamed his name this time.

“Alexander!”

He didn’t stop. He kept going, dragging it out, drawing every bit of pleasure from my body until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

When he finally pulled back, he looked at me like he’d just devoured the sun.

“You’ll never belong to anyone else,” he said simply.

And in that moment I believed him.

Because even if I wanted to pretend otherwise, deep down I knew.

He was already inside me.

Not just my body.

But something far more dangerous.

My soul.