Page 67 of Marked By Him

But somehow, it’s different with Monroe.

Her lips against mine set off a chain of involuntary reactions inside me—pulse-pounding, spine-tingling, blood-surging warmth that shoots straight through me and uproots everything around us.

They’re so soft, I find I can’t get enough.

I kiss her harder, pressing my lips against hers, pushing her down on the couch. She hungrily accepts, just as eager and desperate to feel my mouth on her. She’s panting and clutching at me like can’t stand it; she can’t take the tension that’s exploded between us.

Just like it had last night.

Our tongues meet for aggressive lashes as we crash down on the couch. I can taste every drop of the soju on her tongue. I suck away at hers, pinning her down, one wrist on either side. She spreads her thighs and grinds her hips against me.

For being prey, the little rabbit knows just how to provoke the big, bad tiger.

A throaty growl rumbles out of me as I tear my mouth from hers and then start dropping kisses elsewhere. A visceral hunger has stirred to life inside me, one that won’t be silenced.

It demands I devour Monroe Ross right now. I consume her whole in every way.

“I want that perfect pussy clenched around my cock,” I growl at her, biting at her jaw. My fingers slide between her thighs and find her panties.

As predicted, the cotton fabric’s damp. I’m hard and she’s wet.

The perfect combination for a moment like this.

But as my long fingers start rubbing at the soft, wet folds of her pussy through the fabric of her panties, Monroe clamps her thighs shut. She pushes at my chest and releases a sharp breath like she’s emerging from icy waters.

“We can’t!” she cries out. “It’s not right.”

I sit up on my knees, baffled by the sudden twist of the moment.

Given the opening for an escape, she slides out from under me and springs to her feet. She puts as much space between us as possible, folding her arms and crossing over to the window again.

It’s like the last fifteen minutes of flirtation didn’t happen—she’s returned to the morose, tearful version of herself she’d been when I first arrived.

I scrub a hand over my face, teeth gritted. “What’s the problem now?”

“It’s thesameproblem, Jin. You just provided a distraction.”

“Which is?”

“What we did was wrong,” she mutters, her back to me. Her tone changes, sounding more pensive, almost like she’s thinking aloud. “I love my fiancé.”

A pause drags on between us as I stare at her back and make sense of what she’s said.

“Your dead fiancé?”

“That’s right!” She spins around, her eyes lit with indignation. “You stalked me and found out every little detail about my life. Yes, mydeadfiancé, Jin! His name was Elijah Turner and he was a great man! I’ll always love him!”

I stand up from the couch, sliding my hands into my pockets. Jealousy knots inside my chest at how sincere she sounds declaring her love for him.

“He’s dead now. He’s never coming back.”

Monroe recoils like I’ve struck her.

“You’re such a fucking dick,” she whispers. “How could you say something like that?”

“It’s the truth,” I say, slanting my head to the side. “He’s dead. No amount of tears will bring him back. You’re wasting your time pretending otherwise.”

“You heartless son of a—” Her voice cracks, dying out before she can finish. She shakes her head as more tears slip down her cheeks. “You have no idea what it means to love someone, do you? You don’t know what it’s like to feel empty without them. You don’t get it! But don’t you dare—don’t you fucking dare—talk about Eli like that!”

---