I'm Not Your Whore!
ke inhaling the thick scent of her captivity-the crisp linen sheets, the faint hint of Adrian's
in the shadows. Somewhere, Adrian was likely drinking, watching, waiting. The way he had touched her earlier-so controlled, so deliberate-was not tha
e, curling in on herself.
ge, but that didn't mean she had to
time to settle before
e hammering. Her breath
rt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves still rolled to his forearms, the epitome of controlle
omach
where he stood. Then, after a moment, he stepped in
ce to remain steady.
amused by her defiance. "My wife in
sheets. "This isn't a m
ou are. Wearing my ring. Sleeping in my house. Whethe
bubbling in her throa
n moved closer. The air in the room
f the bed, his gaze unwa
furrowed
y, his voice a dark
breath
He was taunting her, daring her to leave, k
e world outside this mansion wasn't a refuge-it was ju
night. But then what? There were no allies waiting for her. No esc
rian k
his smirk deepen. "T
ned in h
hell,"
ed against her cheek-light, deliberate, a caress meant to remind
eetheart," he murmured
ened, stepping back as
s. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her vo
ever submit to yo
r a long moment, then
he turned and walked away, l
er he was gone, her breat
sle wanted h
break easily, he had no id