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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Elle

Seb’s hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me into a private room with a force that’s somewhere between anger and desperation. My skin prickles under his touch, every nerve ending already raw, buzzing from the scene. He lets go just long enough to slam the door behind us, the sound echoing through the room, sealing us away from the crowd and leaving nothing but the tension pulsing between us.

I straighten, crossing my arms as if I can shield myself from him, even as the thrill of it all still races through me. Candy’s plan worked, just as she promised it would. Seb’s practically fuming, possessive, just like I wanted. But that satisfaction is quickly overshadowed by something sharper, more dangerous. I’m still teetering on the edge, my body aching, desperate, and every time he gets close, that need flares, threatening to undo me completely.

“What the hell was that, Elle?” His voice is low, controlled, but the raw anger underneath it makes me shiver.

I glare up at him, feigning defiance, though my body betrays me with a slight tremble. “What does it look like? It was a scene. A little play. Nothing more.” I sound braver than I feel, the heat from his gaze making my resolve slip, inch by inch. I’m not stupid. Choosing to scene with Vixen was a very deliberate decision. I refuse to give Seb an excuse to say I’m in breach of contract, and even though the flogging wasn’t technically sexual, I wasn’t about to risk it with a guy.

Seb steps closer, crowding me, the air between us charged, electric. “You think you can just parade yourself in front of me, let someone else’s hands touch you, mark you – without consequences?” His hand reaches out, tracing a line along my collarbone, and I can’t help the way my breath hitches.

I curl my lip, pushing through the swirl of desire building in me, trying to mask the way his nearness has me burning. “Parade myself? I wasn’t breaching any boundaries. I was just doing exactly what I agreed to do.” I arch a brow, tilting my chin defiantly even as my pulse races. “What’s wrong, Sebastian? Jealous?”

He leans in, his lips hovering just beside my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Jealousy doesn’t begin to cover it.” His voice is barely a whisper, a dark promise, and the words seem to slide down my spine, settling low in my belly, making my whole body ache. “You don’t seem to get it, Elle. You. Are. Mine. No one else gets to lay a hand on you. Not like that.”

My skin is tingling, every inch of me desperate for his touch, yet furious with him at the same time. I’m his ? He’s barely touched me. He’s made no move to propose and hurry along our deal. And he’s out cheating on me with multiple other women. Yet he thinks he can hold me to some bullshit double standard? No. No fucking way.

I’m trembling, my body already primed, already on the edge, and he knows it. It’s infuriating, knowing he can see right through me. I force a laugh, keeping my voice steady despite the way his presence is unravelling me, bit by bit. “Yours? Funny, because I don’t see a ring on my finger. You don’t get to call the shots when you can’t even bother with commitment yourself.”

His eyes darken, something dangerous flashing there, and before I can pull away, his hand finds my hip, gripping me, pulling me flush against him. I can feel every line of him, his body hard and unyielding against mine, his gaze fierce, unwavering.

He’s hard as granite beneath me and a thrill flashes through me.

“You really think that matters?” His fingers dig into my hip, and it’s all I can do not to melt against him, to give in to the pull of my body and the bite of pain. “Ring or not, you’re mine, Elle. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’re doing this for. Your virginity is mine. When I choose to take it.”

My resolve wavers, the heat of him seeping into me, spreading through my veins. He’s so close, too close, and I can feel every pulse of my body responding to him. But I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus. I don’t want him to see how badly I’m shaking, how his words send shivers over my skin, making me desperate, needy. I shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, his gaze locked on mine, daring me to keep fighting.

“Yours?” I snap, hating how breathless I sound. “You think you own me? When you’re out with other women? Flirting, touching…for all I know, doing more?” The words spill out, each one tinged with resentment, with the anger I’ve been holding back. “So tell me, Sebastian. Why am I supposed to follow the rules when you don’t follow your own?”

His expression hardens, but I see the flicker of something behind his eyes – a crack in his armour.

I try to look away, but he captures my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing my jaw, igniting a fire beneath my skin. My mouth is dry, and I want to hold onto the anger, to push him away, but I’m losing the battle. The way he’s looking at me, as though he wants to devour me, claim me, is making my pulse race, my thoughts blur. I feel my resolve crumbling, my breath coming faster, betraying the way he’s making me feel. He leans in, his lips just a breath away from mine, and I can barely think, barely breathe.

“Every inch of you,” he whispers, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me even closer, until there’s no space left between us. “Every. Single. Inch. Is. Mine. No one else is ever going to touch you like that again. No man. No woman. No one. You. Belong. To. Me.”

His fingers trail down my side, sending a shiver through me, and I can’t help it – the tiny, desperate whimper that escapes my lips. He hears it, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, one that makes my whole body throb. He knows exactly what he’s doing, how close I am to shattering under his touch. His thumb strokes along my hip, his fingers digging in possessively, making my knees weak.

But I can’t let him win. Not completely. Not yet. “You don’t get to act all possessive when you’re not even?—”

“Not even what?” he cuts me off, his voice low, a warning. “Not even willing to make you mine?” His hand slips up, his fingers brushing over my pulse, feeling it race beneath his touch. “Careful, Elle. You’re closer to begging than you realise.”

I want to laugh it off, to scoff, but I can’t deny it. I’m burning for him, desperate, every nerve in my body on fire, screaming for release. And he knows it. He can feel the tremor in my body, the way I’m leaning into him despite myself, my hands gripping his shirt as though I might fall if I let go.

“Then show me,” I challenge, my voice barely a whisper. “If I’m so close to begging…make me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his gaze locked on mine, his fingers tightening on my waist. The tension is unbearable, electric, my body thrumming with the anticipation, the need. Then, slowly, he leans in, his lips hovering just over mine, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath, the heat radiating from him.

His mouth brushes mine, a teasing whisper of a kiss, and it’s almost enough to break me, to make me give in. But he pulls back just as quickly, his gaze searing, his hand slipping up my raw spine, pulling me tighter against him. I grip the front of his shirt in response.

“You don’t get to play games with me, Elle,” he murmurs, his voice a dark, possessive promise. “But if you think I’ll let this go unpunished, you’re wrong. I’m not letting you go until you understand who you belong to.”

I shudder, my body already unravelling, and I know – he’s not letting me leave this room until I’m on my knees, until he’s marked me in every way possible. And right now, I don’t want to fight it. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when my whole body is aching, desperate for him to take me.