"Fuck little mouse, saying those things makes me want to own you," he whispered, staring at her intensely.
His possessiveness lit a match within her until a slow and steady heat started to flicker inside. "You already do," she admitted.
"You're the most important thing in my life," he breathed, and his brow crumbled as he stared at her, almost confused, like he didn't know how that had happened.
"Tell me what you need," she whispered. Her gaze flicked to his chest, taking in his tattoos . In the center of his chest, there was his mother's name. Her lips curled up.
She wanted him. With every fiber of her being. She wanted the good and the bad.
She wanted him open and raw and aching with a primal drive to imprint himself into her soul. She wanted to fall apart in his hands.
He stood up and stepped from the bed to the floor.
