Twisted Vows Of Desire
It wasn’t gentle.
It was years of anger and betrayal, twisted up with desperate need and reckless, reckless want.
Dominic’s hands gripped my hips, lifting me onto the glass table, scattering papers and photographs everywhere. I gasped as the cold surface kissed my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat burning between us.
His mouth moved over mine with ruthless precision, claiming, devouring. I kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring every fractured emotion into it—every broken vow, every twisted desire.
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