Ivy’s POV
His lips are bruising mine, his grip is punishing, but I don’t care. I need this.
I need him like this—furious, raw, and barely in control.
He carries me to the room like I weigh nothing, throwing me onto the bed with a growl. I bounce once on the mattress, heart racing, breath shallow.
He’s stalking toward me, his tie already ripped off, shirt halfway unbuttoned, chest heaving with rage and desire. His eyes are wild, dark, dangerous. Possessive.
“This is what you do to me,” he snarls. “You walk into my world, stir up every dark, ugly part of me, and you f*****g smile like it’s a game.”
I push up on my elbows, challenging him even as I tremble. “You’re the one who can’t stay away. Don’t put that on me.”
He yanks off his shirt, the buttons flying. “You think this is a f****
