Page 99 of Only for Him

My breath steadies. My steps slow. I don’t need to rush.

I always catch what’s mine.

I want to hold her down, see her writhe as she succumbs to her own desires.

She bites, she fights, but I want her to understand. This is how it will be because this is how we both want it.

Forever.

No. Not forever. Just until this is done,I remind myself.

Because foreverdoesn’t have my name on it.

Forever doesn’t belong to men like me.

Which is why I need to make this moment count.

Savor the hunt. Lick the air to taste the sweet, frantic arousal she leaves in her wake.

I know that FBI fuck can’t do this for her. No man can. I’m the only one.

I slow my pace, letting silence thicken between us. She’s just ahead—I can feel it in the static of the air, the short, sharp inhales she tries to muffle.

I don’t often use this wing and all the doors are locked. The hallway goes nowhere.

She’s hit a wall.

Too dark to see it right away, I hear her clawing at the wallpaper, looking for a door, maybe a window, anything to prolong the chase.

Getting closer, I can hear more. Her heartbeat is a war drum in the dark, loud and erratic.

I imagine her standing there, fists clenched, lungs burning, trying to decide if she’ll fight or beg.

She’ll do both.

“Nowhere left to run, little viper,” I say. My voice is a thread, meant to pull her to me. A promise more than a threat.

“You’re right,” she says. The sounds stop, no more scrabbling or pacing, but it’s not submission I hear in those two beautiful words.

It’s coyness, or maybe even cruelty.

For a moment, I’m caught off guard.

Her capacity to blindside me is nothing short of a miracle. It’s also part of the fun.

And then?—

Anoomph. A shuddering. A burn.

It starts in my core and radiates up my spine, a live wire riding my vertebrae. For a beat, I see nothing but red. My tongue tastes blood. The pain is exquisite.

She kneed me in the fucking balls.

I’m furious, not that she landed the hit, but that I let her. Stupid, foolish mistake.

Not just brave. Predictable in the most infuriating way.

Then again—that’s my girl.