Page 187 of They Are Mine

“Oh, Callum,” she sighs, voice dripping honey. “I’m going to keep you.”

My cock throbs.

Jesus.

This girl.

I step out of the car, round the hood, and by the time I open her door, she’s already looking up at me like she’s ready to be devoured.

I offer my hand.

She doesn’t just take it, she laces her fingers through mine like she’s already claiming me.

Yeah. I’m fucked.

I take her inside.

It’s a trailer, not a palace, but it’s mine.

Dim light, a whiskey bottle on the counter, and a bed that I’m about to wreck her on.

I kick the door shut.

She stands there, all soft curves and pink fucking lace, watching me like she already knows what’s coming.

“What now?” she purrs.

Oh, baby. Now I break you.

I don’t even answer.

I grab her.

Crash my mouth to hers.

She gasps, sweet little sound, but her hands are already on my belt, fingers working the buckle like she’s starving.

And fuck if that doesn’t make me harder.

I shove my hand into her hair, tilt her head back, and take my time.

She tastes like sugar and something dangerous.

Something addictive.

Something that’s gonna be my downfall.

I bite her lip. Suck her tongue into my mouth. Drag my teeth down her jaw, to her throat, where her pulse is pounding like she already fucking knows.

She’s not leaving this bed without screaming my name.

“Take off your clothes,” I rasp.

She shivers. Then she smiles. Slow. Knowing. “Make me.”

Oh, sweetheart.

She says make me like she thinks I won’t.

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