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“You’ll be the end of me.” The confession pummels out of me. I don’t get a say in it. Can’t find it in me to care that she looks at me as if I hung the damn moon. “I won’t rest until I become your everything.”

Pressing my mouth to hers, tasting me and her together, is the only thing that matters. Rubbing my tongue against hers is how I’ll survive this. Her.

My pulse kicks up, my heart infuriated that I let someone in like that.

Fuck my pulse. Fuck the world. Fuck this heart in my chest that screams that this is wrong.

She’s here. Her blood and our orgasms are fresh on her tongue. Her lips. I’ve never understood why my clients say theylost control. When they try to describe how a switch flipped inside them, and they became more animal than human.

This taste, though. This fucking taste and how willing she is, my fucked-up little thing. The woman who told menoand now moans into my mouth, dragging her nails over my chest.

I bite her lip and get a fresh taste of her blood on my tongue. Devour her voice as she screams into my mouth. Pull her closer as she wriggles, hoping to escape.

“You’ll get your chance to scream tonight, Ophelia.” I step back, pulling on my briefs and sweatpants.

Her hands fall to her sides as she stands there, panting. Stunned at the abrupt separation.

“You’re getting dressed?” It’s adorable, the way she says it. Naked and sad and hopeful.

In the dim light of the room, she stands out like a beacon. Like a star in the night sky.

The need to snuff out her light so that no one else will get to enjoy it is overwhelming.

Except I won’t.

I’ll destroy everyone else before they even dare come near her instead.

I’ll make sure she never forgets just how mine she is.

“Ah. So needy for my cock already.” I shake my head. Take a couple of steps back toward the windows.

“You.” Her eyebrows knit. The distance wounds her as much as it does me. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me.” On any other man’s lips, it would’ve been a promise. On mine, it’s a threat. “You’ll have so much of me that you’ll be begging me to leave you.”

“Never.” Her mouth moves, her voice only a whisper. She doesn’t mean for me to hear it. She knows I will anyway. It kills her, how damaged both of us are.

And I’m just getting started.

“You have until I count to one hundred.” My arms cross over my bare chest.

Her eyes dart to the movement, then back at me. “To do what?”

“To run, Ophelia.” When my head tilts to the side, a shiver goes through her. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do since day one?”

“I…” The corners of her mouth curve down. Her fingertips rise to one cheek where I smeared blood and cum on her. “You’re letting me go?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth again.”

Her thighs clench at my detached tone. She’s getting off on the humiliation. “I am.”

“I said run. I also said that you had until I counted down to a hundred. Meaning, I’m…” I scratch my scruff, pretending to consider this. “At seventy-five now. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you’re here when I get to zero.”

22

JAMES

I’m not sure what makes her sprint out the door. The threat in my voice. A desire to get out of this place. A survival instinct.