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“Would you prefer ‘swine’?” Her eyes stew with rage. “You don’t get it. You don’t ‘let’ another human being do anything. I’m not your property. You don’t own me. You will neverownme. I don’t care how desperate you are. I don’t care how much money you throw at me or how you meddle and interfere. I will never fall for you. I will never let you take over.”
“I never asked you to do any of that. Fall for me? Let me take over? Screw it, Nardi. All I need from you is one thing.”
“There’s no need to beg for it, Cullen. I already hate you,” she spits.
I’m in front of her in a flash, my resolve to hold out completely dissipated. “Say that again.”
Her eyes widen with something like fear. She trembles, backing up a step. I rope my hands around her waist, being careful of her wrist brace.
“Again, Nardi,” I whisper low and fierce.
She pins her lips together.
I lean forward, kissing the sensitive lobe of her ear. Her skin is so sweet on my tongue.
Damn, she’s intoxicating.
The silence twines with tension, creating a pulsing, buzzing electricity through the air.
“Or were you lying to me? Did you not mean it?” I taunt her.
Nardi stares me right in the eyes. “I meant it.”
“Then say it.”
“I hate you.”
Like a panther to its prey, I pounce on her. There’s nothing gentle, nothing decent about the way I slam my lips against hers. The kiss immediately sets to a feverish pace and I grip the back of her neck, tilting her head back to deepen the onslaught.
Heat envelops me. The whipping frenzy of my pulse threatens to send me to the grave early.
And still I hold on to her.
Her lips taste of paradise and purgatory. Of everlasting bliss and never-ending torture. I take from her, punishing her, holding her tight to my chest while I plunder her mouth with my tongue.
She fights back, clawing at my shoulders so forcefully it’ll leave marks. I cherish every line she indents in my skin. Let her mark me. Let her stain me. This failing body is hers anyway.
“Tell me again,” I growl, pulling back just far enough to press my forehead against hers.
Nardi’s eyes are hazy and I can feel her fingers twitching as they twine in the shoulder of my shirt. If I didn’t know that her knees were buckling and she wouldn’t be able to stand without holding me, I would think she’s yanking on my shirt to punch me in the face.
Her breath hits my chin, scattered and uneven.
I slip my hands under her shirt. My fingers slide across her stomach, waking her from her daze. I feel something like a healed incision mark when she suddenly grabs my hand and pushes it away.
“Nardi.”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“Let me hear it again,” I plead.
“I…” She clamps her mouth shut. Swallows hard. Licks her lips.
The sight of her tongue makes me feral.
“Sweetheart,” I growl, running my nose up and down her neck.
She shudders.