My Possessive Billionaire
I leaned in and kissed him—not the gentle, hesitant kisses we’d shared lately, but a kiss that was desperate, hungry, and full of all the truths I couldn't say out loud.
For a heartbeat, he resisted, his body stiff with the remnants of his anger. Then, with a low growl that vibrated against my lips, he broke. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me so close I could feel the heat of him through the fabric.
He lifted me onto the bed, his touch possessive and urgent, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of me before I walked out of his life. In the dark of the room, as the city lights blurred outside, I gave him everything. Every touch was an "I'm sorry," and every breath was an "I
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