The room was quiet, the only sound was our breathing—hers soft and uneven, mine calm but heavy. I watched her as she tried to make herself small under the sheets, like shrinking into the bed would make this go away. But it wouldn’t. I wouldn’t.
She thought she could slip through my fingers like sand, but she didn’t know the kind of man I was. I didn’t just take what I wanted—I kept it.
And Amelia?
She was already mine.
Her silence grated at me. I needed her to speak, to scream, to cry, anything but this damn stillness. It felt like rejection in slow motion, like her body gave in, but her soul hadn’t.
And that pissed me off more than anything.
I leaned in closer, voice low, sharp like a blade. “You think if you stay quiet long enough, I’ll disappear?”
Her eyes finally met mine.
Big.
