Weeks blurred into months inside the penthouse, but nothing felt the same after that night. Delucas didn’t treat me like a prisoner anymore. I was still his—completely, undeniably—but the way he looked at me had shifted. The cold calculation in his gray eyes now burned with something hotter, something deeper. And I craved it. Every touch, every glance, every rough command that sent heat rushing through my veins.
He came to me almost every night now. Sometimes slow and teasing, drawing out my moans until I begged. Sometimes hard and urgent, like the violence of his world followed him home and only I could tame it. Tonight was the latter.
I barely had time to set my book aside before he was on me, kicking the door shut behind him. His mouth crashed into mine, hungry and demanding. I kissed
