His arms closed around her like a cage. One hand kneading her breast in slow, deliberate squeezes, the other anchoring her waist as if she might run—which she wouldn't.
She never really could.
He leaned down, brushing her hair aside like he cared, lips pressing against the curve of her nape—soft, almost tender, and somehow that broke her more.
Another kiss followed, lower this time, warm breath fanning against her skin.
"So you accept it," he murmured, voice honey-drenched and dangerous. "You fell for me, huh?"
Tears slid down her cheeks again, hot and silent. This time she didn't bother wiping them. "…Yes," she whispered. And then the confession came like a crack in her chest. "I hate this… I hate this so much…"
But even as the words left her lips, her body betrayed her—trembling, leaning back against him, her breathing shallow.
