His to Possess

He moved in, his voice low and rough against her ear. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m not,” Calla lied, though her whole body betrayed her, every nerve alight under his stare.
Rico chuckled, dark and low, the kind of sound that made her stomach twist. “Liar.” His hand slid up her spine, slow, deliberate, claiming ground he already knew was his. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it? You’ve missed this. Missed me.”
She hated that he was right. Hated more that she couldn’t make herself deny it.
“Say it,” he murmured, his mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “Tell me what you want.”
Her breath caught. Pride warred with need, and need was winning, the way it always did when he looked at her like that, like she was something to be devoured. “…You,” she finally breathed. “I want you.”
Something dark and satisfied flickered across his face. “Good girl.”
He kissed her then, hard, unforgiving, the kind of kiss that erased every argument she’d planned to have with him. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, and the last coherent thought she had was that she was already lost, had been lost from the moment he walked back into her life.
The world narrowed to heat and his hands and the low sound of her name in his voice.
Everything after belonged only to them.
He was still catching his breath beside her when the coldness crept back into his expression, like a door quietly closing.
“That changes nothing,” he said.
Calla turned her head against the pillow, studying him. “Didn’t ask it to.”
But they both knew that was a lie.