Page 94 of Desperate Crimes
My voice is low. A blade.
She swallows, sitting a little straighter. “I’m sorry.”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
I lean in, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and kiss her again—this time slower, deeper.
Drawing out every shaky breath, every small surrender, until she melts against me.
“You don’t walk away from me, Princess. Not now. Not ever.”
I ease her back, guiding her onto my lap, her knees on the seat next to me, my hands gripping her hips like she might vanish again if I let go.
Her dress rides up, soft silk bunching around her thighs.
She’s warm and soft and trembling slightly—but not with fear. No, not with fear.
With anticipation.
“This isn’t just obsession,” I murmur against her throat, kissing the curve of her neck. “This is devotion. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
Her hands fist in my shirt, her body arching as I shove my hands up her skirt, between her legs.
Fuck.
She’s wet. Fucking soaked.
And she’s already gasping, already clinging.
Already mine.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I demand against her skin.
“I’m yours,” she whispers.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours, Nico.”
That’s better.
That’s everything.
And now that she’s said it?
There’s no more holding back.
Fuck. I’m even more obsessed.
More desperate to have her submit to me.
Wholly. Completely. Eternally.
“Tell me you understand,” I murmur, voice rough. “That you want this. That you understand what it means to be mine.”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t hesitate.
“I understand, Nico,” she whispers, eyes glassy with need. “I want this. I want you. Please.”
