Nevara
His hand never left my throat.
It was still there, firm and possessive, as if letting go would break the spell he’d just cast. His other hand—once gripping my wrist—loosened with a slow drag down my arm until it hovered at my hip.
“Take off your leggings,” he ordered, voice low and savage.
I tilted my head coyly, smirking even though my heart was a thunderstorm in my chest. “Well… see, I would—if I were being a good girl and all.”
His eyes narrowed.
“But that,” I whispered, “would just be too easy.”
I didn’t even register the movement.
One blink I was smirking—next, I was face-first against the wall, arm twisted behind me again, his hand still wrapped around my throat, anchoring me like I was the only thing tethering him to sanity.
Or maybe insanity.
He let out a breath li
