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CHAPTER EIGHT-KOA

Finley isn’t like me, though.

She’s movement.

She’s glitter and rebellion wrapped in the softest damn skin I’ve ever touched.

Would she even want something like this?

Someone like me?

Because if I give in—if I stop holding back and finally take what I want?

I won’t be able to let go.

Still, I can’t help but wonder.

Would she let me ruin her? Would she let me possess her?

Fuck. Maybe it’s safer not to find out.

I tell myself that.

Repeat it like a mantra as I try to calm the ache in my chest. In my cock. In my need for her.

Blue balls are better than no balls, right?

Of course, not ten fucking minutes go by when I see her.

Walking alone through the lot we’ve turned into our makeshift campground for the night.

Barely there clothes clinging to every goddamn curve, soft cotton that hugs her tits, those thighs, that ass.

Fuck.

I lose it.

That tight grip on the leash I call control, well, it slips.

Doesn’t she know it’s not safe out here?

This isn’t a secure compound.

There’s no night guard.

No locked gates.

Just a patch of dirt, a few parked rigs, and a half-lit shed on the far side.

And she’s out here.

Alone.

My jaw tightens. My fists clench.

She’s a proud woman, but doesn’t she care about safety?

Shit. She’s not just a woman.

She’s my woman.

Even if she doesn’t know it.

Mine.

The word blazes through my mind before I can stop it.

And that’s all it takes.

My legs are already moving. I cut across the lot, heading toward the shed near the vending machines.

Because I know her. I’ve watched her.

I’ve seen the way she lights up at the mention of anything sweet.

The way her verdant eyes sparkle when she sees a pack of Starburst or a bag of M&Ms like they’re gold.

Of course she’s out here for a snack.

It’s cute. Adorable, even.

And fucking dangerous.

I’m gonna scare some goddamn sense into her.

But that plan goes up in flames the second I lay eyes on her.

She’s backlit by the vending machine glow, head tilted, hair atop her head, lips slightly parted as she debates between chips or candy.

She’s wearing a fresh tank top and shorts. Soft cotton, clinging in all the right places.

Pajamas, maybe. Or a cruel joke from the universe.

My cock throbs, hot and heavy.

My mouth actually waters.

I grip one of the ceiling beams inside the shed, tensing as she nears.

She looks up, our eyes lock—and everything in me goes still.

“Jesus. Give a girl a warning next time, would you?”

What follows is some more banter like we exchanged earlier. All flirtation and teasing, probably.

I can barely hear it over the roar of blood in my ears.

She’s so damn tempting. So sexy and sweet.

Next thing I know, I’m moving.

I’m stepping into her space, caging her against my body like a man possessed.

And then I do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t.

I kiss her.

Hard. Desperate. Starving.

Her lips are soft but demanding, and when she kisses me back—when she makes that little sound in her throat— my dick leaks precum into my shorts like a fucking teenager.

I’m so hard it’s painful, and I haven’t even touched her skin yet.

I’m not like this.

Never like this.

But with her?

With Finley?

I’m fucking feral.

I want to taste every inch of her. Brand my name into her skin. Hear her say it back.

Mine, mine, mine.

I’m not thinking anymore. I’m just feeling.

And what I feel is her .

Every ragged breath, every aching inch of me.

I don’t just want to have her.

I want to ruin her for anyone else.