Page 67 of Claim Me

Proof, I remember.Something about proof and fate.

Whatever. I don’t need to know what she meant. Because she doesn’t want me to know. She doesn’t want me at all. And fuck if I’m going to stand around and beg her to accept me.

“You know what, Fallon?” I say, my grip on her throat weakening. “You can keep your secrets. I’m done trying to figure this out. Done trying to help you. Done protecting you.”

Her pupils dilate as she looks at me, her gaze searching.

But she doesn’t say anything.

Not that I expect her to. She’s made it very clear that no matter what I do or say, she’s not going to trust me.

And as a result, I will never trust her.

Which is why I have no choice here.

“I can’t remain fate-bonded to someone who so obviously misunderstands me and my motives. Mating is about mutual respect and trust, neither of which exists between us. And you’ve made it clear those two things are impossible for us to achieve.”

Fallon’s eyes widen. “Kaspian, wait—”

“Fallon Doyle, I re—”

One minute, I’m uttering one of the hardest sentences I’ve ever had to say aloud in my very long life.

And in the next instant, I’m silenced by Fallon’s plump lips.

I blink several times, startled by her sudden nearness and the way she’s clinging to my shoulders.

What the fuck just happened?

Her mouth isn’t moving against mine. It’s just sort of there, silencing me midsentence and preventing me from finishing the phrase that would sever my ties to her.

When I try to move back, she tightens her grip and digs her nails into my shirt.

I squeeze her throat in response, reminding her that I still have her pressed up against the glass. Trying to claw me isn’t going to win her any points here. I have over a foot of height on her, and a hell of a lot of muscle.

Fuck, I’m surprised she could even reach my mouth when her head barely reaches my chin. She must be standing on her toes, hence the need to grip my shoulders for bal—

Her lips move, seizing my attention. It’s a subtle twitch, one that feels mysteriously like an invitation.

She’s fucking with me.Because there’s no way she actually wants me to kiss her.

But after everything we just said to each other? I’m inclined to do just that and teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.

I slide my palm from her throat to the back of her neck and use my thumb along her jaw to angle her head right where I want it.

She shivers in response, her little talon-like nails sinking even deeper into my dress shirt.

I smile against her mouth, teasing her, playing with the lingering moment, making her wait.

And just when I sense her impatience winning her over, I strike.

Fallon wanted to taunt me into a kiss? Then I’ll fucking kiss her. More than that, I’llownher.

She gasps as my tongue parts her lips, her shock encouraging me to do more, to master her, to make her sorry for ever trying to toy with me.

I tighten my grip on her nape and press myself against her, firmly trapping her between me and the glass behind her. Then I deepen our kiss, my tongue thoroughly exploring her own, laving her with experience and showering her with my dominant preferences.

She responds in kind, her own tongue matching mine stroke for stroke as her arms wind around my neck.