“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he growls, just like he offered the very first time. “Tell me you don’t want this and it will end right now.”
I try. I swear I do. I wrack my brain hunting for those words, but Stop isn’t something I’m capable of saying anymore.
Because Stefan Safonov—the man who can have anything—is looking at me like there’s nothing else in the world he could ever want.
That’s the reason—the only reason—I find myself shaking my head.
“I can’t say that,” I confess. “It wouldn’t be true.”
There’s a single breath of hesitation—a crackling moment balanced on the edge of Will we, won’t we—before his mouth covers mine.
Then we both take the leap together.
His tongue claims my mouth, drawing a soft moan from my throat that I barely recognize as my own. My fingers tangle in h
