Lila's POV
If this is hell...
Why does it feel so damn good to burn?
I'm not thinking anymore. Just feeling. Just wanting. His breath against my skin, his hands on my thighs, his presence alone makes me feel things I'm supposed to feel. I'm supposed to hate him. f*****g hate him for what he did to me. But why the f**k was I feeling this way?
My fingers twitch at my sides, aching to touch him. To pull him closer. To dare him.
His fingers tug the towel just a little, 'just enough to remind me how little space exists between us, how little fabric is keeping me from being completely exposed.
Still, he doesn't rush. His touch was deliberate. Controlled. And that somehow makes it so much worse. So much better.
"Say something," he says, voice low, eyes locked on mine.
I finally manage a
