The night was heavy with silence, the kind that made every breath sound louder, every step more deliberate. I was walking down the hall when he caught me—literally—his hand wrapping around my wrist and yanking me into the shadows of his room.
Before I could speak, my back hit the wall, his body pressing into mine, hot, solid, unyielding. His breath was ragged, his control frayed.
“I warned you,” he growled, his voice thick with lust and fury. “You keep pushing me, and I’ll break.”
I smirked, though my pulse thundered. “Maybe I want to see you break.”
That was it. The last thread of restraint snapped.
His mouth crushed mine, hungry and raw, claiming me with a savagery that stole my breath. His hands roamed without hesitation this time—gripping, squeezing, exploring as though every inch
