His Beauty Her Beast
The temptation to step forward and pull her closer was almost unbearable, but I resisted — not because of restraint, but because the chase, the tension, was far more delicious than yielding.
She’s mine. She doesn’t know it, and that makes it all the more tempting.
I let my voice drop, low, dangerous, teasing. “Don’t call you my wife?” I repeated, letting the words roll out slowly, tasting them. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to it.”
Her eyes narrowed, scanning my face for some sign of mockery, some trap. She hated me, yes — and yet, there was something unreadable there. Something I could exploit. My lips curved into a smile that I knew made her uneasy.
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