Page 102 of Undisputed Chaos
I tucked it into the neckline of her dress, letting it slide between her breasts, a promise and a claim all at once.
"This," I said, fingers now tracing the ribbon at her throat, "was gifted to you by a man who wants to possess every part of you. Those," I nodded toward the pile, "were given by a man who couldn't even keep you. The difference, angel, is I understand what you're worth."
Her breathing hitched, eyes wide and liquid. I let my thumb brush over her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch.
"Use my card," I continued, voice softening slightly even as madness danced behind my eyes.
"Buy anything you want. Everything you want. But these things from him? They burn. That's not negotiable."
She swallowed hard, and I watched the conflict play across her face—the rational part of her that recognized my unreasonable demand, warring with the part that wanted to please me, to be my good girl.
"You're angry," she whispered, reaching up to touch my face. "Why is this so important to you?"
I caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Because nothing of his gets to touch what's mine," I answered, the truth raw and unfiltered.
"And you, Isla Hills, are mine now and forever."
I turned back to the fire pit, grabbed the accelerant, and doused the pile with the entire bottle. The sharp chemical smell filled the air, making my head spin with anticipation.
I pulled a lighter from my pocket, a jade-green one that matched my favorite knife, and flicked it open.
"Last chance, angel," I said, not looking at her, not wanting to see her expression of conflict. "Any final words for your past before I burn it to ash?"
I sensed rather than saw her approach, felt her presence at my side like a physical touch.
"You're being ridiculous," she said softly, but there was a new understanding in her voice, an acceptance that tempered the hurt. "And possessive. And completely unreasonable."
I turned to look at her and found her eyes reflecting the flame of my lighter. "Yes," I agreed, unrepentant. "All true."
She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "I should be angry."
"Probably," I conceded, watching her carefully.
"But instead," she continued, reaching for the ribbon at her throat, fingers tracing it in a gesture that had become familiar, "I'm... not. I don't understand why, but I'm not."
Relief and triumph surged through me in equal measure.
I lowered the lighter toward the pile, holding her gaze. "Because deep down, you want this too. The clean slate. The fresh start. The complete surrender."
She didn't deny it, which was all the permission I needed.
The lighter touched the accelerant-soaked pile, and flames erupted with a satisfying whoosh that sent heat washing over us like a lover's breath.
The heat hit my face, and I threw my head back with a guttural groan that sounded almost obscene in the night air.
My cock went rock-hard instantly, straining against my jeans as the flames danced higher, consuming photographs and fabric with hungry, destructive beauty.
"Fuck, yes," I breathed, watching the fire devour her past. The heat was intoxicating, the destruction absolutely perfect.
Every crackle and pop sent electricity straight to my groin, and I had to adjust myself through my jeans before the pressure became unbearable.
I watched Isla’s face in the firelight—the orange glow painting her features in shades of gold, fear and fascination warring in her expression.
Both emotions made her even more beautiful to me.
The fire reflected in her wide blue eyes, and I wanted to drown in them while the flames consumed everything that had come before me.
Unable to resist the pull any longer, I stepped behind her, my hands finding her hips and crowding into her back, so she was flush with my chest.
