Page 50 of Flame
That I have control.
Power.
But for how long? A lump in my throat warns me that I’m standing on the ledge of some massive precipice. One wrong move and a few bruises won’t be the outcome—I’ll be decimated. At the same time, by taking this leap, I may finally unfurl those damaged, singed wings I’ve kept suppressed for so long.
It doesn’t take long for me to settle on a response. Tumble or fly?
When I finally lower my fingertips to the phone’s screen, a part of me knows deep down that he’s waiting for it, eyeing his phone avidly. In this moment, I have power over him, whatever that means in the long run. Even if it’s for a few, sordid seconds. My words. My images. Me.
I have him.
But there’s an alarming realization wrapped up in that reality, one I don’t even want to explore in full just yet.
I may have him for now, but…
I don’t want to let him go.
Shifting onto my back, I draw my knees up to my chest and take a photo. Then another. Another.
They dance across the screen one by one, each near instantaneously garnering a “seen by” caption. Soon, the indicator that he’s writing back flashes at the bottom of the conversation.
Damn head fucker,he says, and even trying to envision his expression makes my belly clench. I can practically hear his groan from here.Show me what a bunny does when she’s very, very sorry.
Just like that, the tables turn. Yes, I hurt him.
And he’s delighting in punishing me.
This time, I slump against the pillows and take a picture of my face, my expression weary. No fake smile. No sensual mask. Just me.
I’m sorry you’re with Bonnie and not with me.
I see that he received the message, but there’s no reply. Silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity until I finally hear it—the distinctive click of a door opening down below. I bolt upright, torn between the horrific possibility that Gino’s men have returned, or an even more terrifying prospect.
ThatRafeis the one boldly creeping through the lower level. The unsteady figure climbing the stairs with deliberate slowness, each step resonating loud enough for me to track. He’s methodical to the point of torture, giving me more than enough time to mull over what his quick arrival means.
That, even if he were still near the park, he started driving here early in our conversation. Maybe before the pictures. The banter. All this time, he was already on his way to me.
My mind is still reeling as the intruder enters the apartment and advances down the hall, creeping ever closer to this room. Then, the door itself opens, revealing a realm of shadow and a figure who dominates the center of it.
Something strikes the floor with a thud, making me jump. His shoe? Then another, followed by a lighter swishing noise. His clothing. He steps forward, allowing me to make out the hint of his motions through the dark.
Gleaming muscle reveals he’s already shed his shirt, cording in his forearms as he works on the clasps of his jeans. Unable to tear my gaze away from him, I rise onto my knees, staring avidly as he tugs them down, down, down…
Then he steps forward, robbing me of my view, as his fingers shoot out to trace the line of my jaw. “You want to be with me, huh?” His husky murmur sets my blood on fire.
Before I can answer, he snatches both of my hands, raising them above my head. Under his control, they form an x over my chest as he leans in, shoving me onto my back. Breathless, I can only gape as he nudges my legs apart with his knee.
“Prove it,” he goads against my exposed collar. “Prove you want to be with me.”
How? He doesn’t leave it up to my imagination to figure out. His hands pin me in place as he juts his hips forward, entering me with a desperation that has us both gasping out. Eyelids fluttering, I marvel for the umpteenth time at the fit—the feel of him.
Perfection.
Greedily, I claw at his back, locking my knees around his waist.
And I show him exactly what I want from him.
Everything he has to give.
