Page 102 of Crave

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I kissed him.

He froze against me, trapped between hesitation and hunger. But I needed this. Needed him to touch me, to make me feel different.

So I kissed him harder.

A low groan vibrated in Gabe’s chest before his lips parted, giving in. His hands moved to cup my face, his touch so different from what I was used to. He kissed me like he’d been waiting forever.

I let him.

Let my fingers slide into his hair, let my body press against his, let his warmth seep into my frozen skin. His hands moved down, fingertips grazing my waist, hesitating. Like he was afraid to ruin me. Like he didn’t already know I was beyond saving.

I shivered as his mouth trailed lower, brushing against my throat, soft and gentle—reverent.

“Angel,” he murmured my name against my skin, like I was something precious.

Something worth loving.

His hands splayed across my hips, pulling me closer.

And suddenly—I couldn’t breathe.

I froze.

The hands weren’t his anymore. They were cold, rough, brutal.

A gun pressed to my lips.

You’re owned.

That hateful voice whispered in my head.

NO!

I shoved him away so hard he stumbled.

“Angel, what?—?”

I barely heard him.

Instead, I clawed at my own skin, raking my nails along my arms and lifted my hand, unleashing a blow against my cheek.

Slap!

Gabe’s eyes widened, staring at me with a look of horror. Still, I couldn’t stop the pain. It cut through me like a blade.

I couldn’t breathe. I felt hands everywhere, too many hands, too many voices, too many fucking orders?—

You are owned.

The words wrapped around my throat like a noose. I gasped, staggering backwards, my nails digging into my arms until the sting was all I felt.

Look at the screen, Angel.

That sick goddamn voice filled my head.

No. No, no, no.

I was back there.

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