Gianna.
His lips… God, his lips were fire.
The moment Ivan’s mouth claimed mine again, everything inside me snapped. There was no ceiling, no walls, no logic — just heat and want and a maddening hunger that clawed up my chest like it wanted to devour me from the inside out.
His hand slid around my waist, pulling me against his bare torso, his skin burning like a brand. A whimper slipped out of me — humiliating, desperate — and his grip tightened as if he liked the sound.
I hated that he liked the sound.
I hated that I liked that he liked the sound.
But the heat didn’t care about hate.
I parted my lips before I could think, inviting him deeper and — moon above — he took full advantage. His tongue brushed mine, and my knees nearly gave out.
He growled, low and rough, catching me be
