Like he’s had me his entire life.
I don’t fight it this time. I can’t.
When he pulls on my hair, I tilt my head back and let him kiss me. No. Scratch that. Because Levi doesn’t kiss, he devours. He eats me up like I’m his favourite flavour.
Then, a second later, he squeezes my neck and wrenches our mouths apart.
I’m panting and begging for air, but all I can think about is… more.
I need more.
Our mouths aren’t meant for breathing or talking. They were made for kissing.
It’s a freaking crime that he hasn’t been kissing me all this time. We should’ve been kissing since that night I was all drugged with him and his touch.
Only I’m not drugged now, am I?
Levi is the drug. I’m a victim of my addiction to him.
I’m a victim of his obsession with me and the way he looks at me as if I’m his life’s dilemma.
“Don’t come cheering for others at my game,” he growls the word against my throat.
“W-what?”
“Don’t stand there calling another guy’s name in my fucking presence.”
I smile, incredulous. “Are you… obsessed with me or something?”
“Call it an obsession or foolishness or fucking madness,” he grunts, squeezing my throat. “But you keep your eyes on me.”
I don’t get to reply because his tongue invades my mouth. Conquers it. Smashes it. Like it’s his God-given right. Like I was made for him to conquer.
The biggest part of me wants to give back what he takes. I want to kiss him like I can win the battle, too. I want to claw at his defences and pull down his walls.
But that’s not who I am, right? I’m not supposed to go on battles and wars. I’m supposed to finish my damn year in peace.
I rip away from his mouth with a groan. “I…”
“Stop denying it.” The pale blue of his eyes traps me in an enchanting spell. With one last squeeze to my throat, he trails his hand to my breast, cupping it. “These feel so full, don’t they?”
I shake my head even as my nipples harden like never before.
“But look at them pushing against the T-shirt. I bet they want me to feel them, huh?”
He flicks his thumb against my nipple over the cloth. His dirty words and his touch put me on a magnitude of sensations.
Everything feels ten folds sharper.
The desk’s wood under me is too hard. The soft light has suddenly become too bright. His intoxicating scent has become opium or a shot of alcohol.
“Lie all you want, but I can feel your arousal, princess.”
I’m about to protest when he pinches my nipple hard.
My head falls back on a moan. “Oh, God.”
He continues twirling the nipple, playing then pinching it as if it’s a torture device. And in a way, it is.