Viya's POV
We'd kissed before. Touched before. Made love before.
But this time was different.
This time, every touch was laced with something darker—not cruelty, but a desperate, almost feral hunger. Caesar's hands gripped my breasts with a possessiveness that bordered on worship, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh not to hurt, but to claim. To remind me that I was his.
My bra didn't stand a chance. He tore it apart with his bare hands, a growl low in his throat as he flung the ruined fabric aside. His eyes raked over me, dark and hungry, and I felt myself respond despite the tension crackling between us.
Every touch, every caress that should have felt like punishment—it all served only to broadcast his fury and his need. His hands roamed my body like he was trying t
