Alexia – POV:
I should've pulled away.
Should've shaken him off, turned around, slapped him even—something.
But I didn't.
Because the moment his lips brushed against the side of my neck, everything else fell away. My guilt. My anger. The loneliness. The ache of being hated by the man I once crushed under heel, and now… loved with every breath I took.
He didn't speak. Didn't give me time to think. Just turned me around with a firm grip on my waist, hands commanding, movements sure, gaze heavy. And when our eyes finally met—God, I didn't see hatred.
I saw need.
Raw, volatile, sharp enough to cut.
Then his mouth was on mine.
Rough. Hungry. Starving.
Like he'd been trying to forget me and failed. Miserably.
My knees buckled, but he caught me, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other sliding down my spine. I should've resisted, screamed sense into him—but instead, I kissed him back. Desperate. Needy. Like a dying woman offered one last taste of air.
