Page 49 of Sinful Obsession
He hesitated, his eyes searching mine, as if looking for something lost. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said softly. “Not until your memory returns.”
The air between us crackled, charged with a dangerous mix of desire and distrust.
My body betrayed me, leaning toward him despite every warning in my mind.
He was my captor, my enemy, yet the heat of his touch sent a shiver of something else through me.
Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed my lips to his.
It was like igniting a fuse.
Cassian responded instantly, his kiss hungry and consuming, as if he’d been holding back a tidal wave of need for too long.
His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, his fingers digging into my hips with a possessive edge.
The heat of his body was intoxicating, a dangerous warmth that made my skin hum and my thoughts scatter.
I knew I shouldn’t feel this way—not for him, not for the man who held me captive in this gilded prison. But my body didn’t care about logic, arching into his touch, craving the fire of his kiss.
His lips moved against mine with a fierce, almost reverent passion, and for a moment, I forgot the fear, the questions, the uncertainty.
There was only this—the taste of him, the strength of his hands, the way his breath hitched when I pressed closer.
Cassian’s hands parted my thighs with a deliberate tenderness, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, sending a shiver rippling through me.
His lips were on mine, hungry, our breaths mingling in a heated dance.
A soft moan escaped me, swallowed by his kiss as I nipped at his lower lip, my body betraying the desperate need I couldn’t name.
The taste of him flooded my senses, pulling me deeper into the moment.
His hand slid lower, finding the edge of my underwear.
The press of his thumb against my clit sent a jolt of pleasure through me.
I gasped, arching into his touch as he deftly shifted the fabric aside, his fingers circling with a slow, deliberate rhythm.
My chest heaved, my legs trembling in the air as I clung to his shoulders, my nails digging into the taut muscle beneath his shirt.
The world narrowed to the heat of his touch, the pulse of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.
“Cassian,” I breathed, my voice a desperate plea as his fingers moved with increasing confidence, one hand joined by another, stretching me to the edge of ecstasy and pain.
My body strained to accommodate the intensity, my grip on his shoulders tightening as if he were the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Pleasure coiled tighter, a spring ready to snap, and I was lost in it, my cries growing louder, unrestrained in the empty mansion.
His lips broke from mine, trailing down my jaw to my chest.
With a swift motion, he tugged my top over my head, the cool air kissing my skin before his mouth found my left chest.
He kissed my scars with a fervent passion, his tongue swirling, igniting sparks that raced down my spine.
“I’ve fucking missed you,” he growled, the raw edge in his voice sending a shock through me.
Missed me? The words hit like a thunderbolt, stirring confusion in the haze of desire.
How could he miss someone he claimed to want to punish?
