Page 55 of Forbidden Empire

We kissed like two animals starved for the same thing, fighting for control, neither of us giving in, neither of us willing to lose.

My arms wound around his neck, dragging him down, demanding more, and the electricity between us only burned hotter, stinging and wilder.

My hands clutched at his shirt, fists twisting, desperate to pull him closer, to dissolve the last inch of space between us.

Inside, my thoughts fought a war all their own. I should have pulled away.

I told myself to stop. To break free.

But I only wanted more. I melted into him, opened myself wider, and let him in deeper.

When he released my hair, his hands found my hips, gripping tight and lifting me up.

Without a second thought, I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he pinned me against the window.

The hem of my dress rode up high, baring me completely, leaving nothing between us but a fever neither of us wanted to cure.

He groaned, low and rough, as his fingers found my pussy.

Calloused fingertips slid through my slick folds, dipping into me. I gasped, arching despite myself, my body betraying every lie I wanted to tell. There was no hiding the wetness or the need, not with him.

His mouth tore from mine, breath hot, searching my face.

I blinked, hard, desperate not to look at him, not to let him see the want in my eyes, the hunger in my body, the way every part of me burned for him.

If he looked, he’d find the war inside me—raw and exposed, tangled up in want and shame.

But he could feel it, all of it, in the way my body moved against his hand.

“Mmm, you’re so wet,” he groaned, the words dark velvet in my ear, his mouth dragging molten, hungry kisses down the slope of my neck.

His finger pressed deeper, and I spread my thighs wider, greedy for more of him, desperate for every inch.

A second finger plunged inside.

God, I was so slick, so ready, and the feeling made me quiver around his hand as he fucked me relentlessly, his palm grinding just right.

My hips jerked up to meet each delicious thrust, needing him harder, faster, as pleasure crackled and bloomed sharp and wild inside me.

“Say it, Esme,” he growled, thick, rough, and barely held together by lust.

Fuck.

Aidon had me cornered, right where he wanted me, and he knew it.

He expected me to break for him, to admit that I belonged to him, that I was his, body and soul.

But no. Not a chance. Nobody would ever own me. I’d never give him that satisfaction.

Even if my body was a traitor, shuddering under the assault of his hand, clenching around his fingers, every nerve ending screaming for surrender, for him, for more.

I wasn’t giving in. Not yet.

Breath hissed out of me, tight and defiant.

I pressed my mouth to his, lips gentle at first, then teeth sinking into his lower lip, a silent refusal to back down.

He groaned, the sound torn between hunger and frustration, and I knew I wasn’t the only one caught up in this war.