She lay sprawled on my bed, breathing hard, flushed, her hair a dark halo around her furious, gorgeous face.

And she dared me.

God help her.

God help me.

Because there was no going back.

A low, broken sound ripped from my chest as I climbed over her, caging her in with my body, my hands braced on either side of her head.

I caught her mouth in another brutal kiss, swallowing the defiance right off her tongue, devouring her until she was gasping beneath me, her hips writhing against mine.

I pulled back just long enough to strip my shirt over my head, tossing it aside without a care.

Her eyes dropped to my bare chest, and even though she tried to hide it — I saw the way her pupils dilated, the way her lips parted like she was thirsty for me.

Good.

My fingers hooked into the hem of that  sweater she wore, I realized with savage satisfaction — and I peeled it up over her head in one rough motion, baring her to me.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Fuck.

I sat back on my heels for one second — one second — just to look at her.

Skin like silk, breasts rising and falling rapidly with each breath, nipples tight from the cold or from me — I didn’t give a damn.

She was mine now.

Every inch of her.

And I was going to make damn sure she knew it.

I dragged my hands down her sides, feeling her shiver, her stomach clenching under my touch.

Slowly, deliberately, I slid my palms up to cup her breasts, my thumbs brushing over those tight little peaks until she arched helplessly into my hands.

"Look at you," I rasped, voice raw. "Acting like you hate me. When your body’s begging for me."

Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t deny it.

Couldn’t.

Not when her thighs shifted restlessly against me, not when she whimpered as I dipped my head to close my mouth over one tight nipple, sucking, teasing, tasting her until her hands clawed into my hair.

"Say it," I growled against her skin. "Tell me who you belong to."

She whimpered again, shaking her head stubbornly, and I smiled against her breast — dark and hungry.

Fine.

If she wanted a war, she’d get one.

I kissed a trail down her stomach, slow and hot, my hands sliding to grip her thighs, forcing them open.

"Mine," I muttered, almost to myself, as I dipped my head lower and tasted her for the first time.

Ashley cried out, her hips jerking, her fingers tangling tighter in my hair — but I didn’t stop, didn’t give her a second to catch her breath.

I licked and sucked and bit at her softly, teasing her until her whole body shook, until she was whispering broken little sounds that made my cock throb painfully against my jeans.

I dragged it out — slow, ruthless — until she was teetering on the edge of madness.

Only then did I lift my head, my mouth wet with her, my chest heaving.

Her face was wrecked, her eyes wild, her lips swollen from kissing, from gasping my name.

"You," I rasped, unbuckling my belt with one hand, never looking away from her. "Only you."

When I thrust inside her, it wasn’t careful.

It wasn’t slow.

It was a claiming.

A possession.

A vow.

Ashley cried out, clutching at me, her nails dragging down my back — a pain so good it made me groan against her mouth.

We moved together, rough and desperate, her body gripping me like she never wanted to let me go.

Like maybe, deep down, she needed me just as much as I needed her.

I drove into her harder, faster, until there was nothing left but heat and hunger and the raw, breaking sound of her moaning my name over and over again.

When she finally shattered around me, sobbing out her release, I followed her, spilling deep inside her with a broken curse, my body shaking with the force of it.

I collapsed over her, breathing her in, feeling her heart pound against mine.

Neither of us spoke.

There were no words big enough for this.

No words for the way she was already becoming the center of my fucking universe.

And I didn’t plan to ever let her go.

Not after this.

Not ever.