ZAIN
I crashed my lips onto hers—not just because I wanted to, but because some primal part of me needed to.
Needed to taste her.
To claim her.
To show that pathetic human behind the bars that she was mine.
Mine.
She stiffened for only a second before she melted into me like butter meeting flame, her body arching against mine with a hunger that burned just as hot as mine. She could fight it all she wanted, deny it with every breath—but her body told the truth. Every gasp, every shiver, every way she gripped the front of my shirt like she needed something to anchor her.
She wanted me.
Not him.
Not the man she thought she loved.
Me.
I backed her into the cold stone wall of the dungeon, deepening the kiss until our breaths tangled and her moan slipped right between my teeth. My hand cupped her jaw, tilting her head back to taste her deeper. She was sweet, like sin soaked in honey, and I was already drunk on her.
The bastard in the cell called her name—once—but I didn't stop.
