“Because, Messiah,” she said weakly. Her lip quivered because she couldn’t even admit that she needed him. She hated that she loved the feel of his hands on her body. She hated that his eyes on hers felt incredible. Having him back was a miracle. She had never thought she would see him again, feel him again. Her anger had been masking how grateful she was that he was even alive. “You came back!” she cried. Her lashes were so heavy from the tears that clung to them. “What took you so long?”

Messiah stole her mouth, not giving one fuck about her resistance because he still owned every part of her. He would own her forever. Morgan withered under his touch. She bit him. Hard. He pulled back and caressed his lip as she pushed him down onto the bed, eyes glossing, angry tears spilling from her … challenging him. He reached up, gripping her neck, and flipped her onto the bed, dominating, hovering over her, one hand squeezing slightly on her throat. Morgan tried to lift, but Messiah grabbed her wrists and pushed her back down against the bed.

“It’s been two years,” she said, shaking her head. “And you just show up.” Tears rolled from her eyes and pooled in her ears as Messiah hovered over her. Morgan’s sobs escaped her, and she turned her head to the side as her chest quaked. “You should have left me alone.”

“I can’t, shorty,” he groaned as he lowered to her ear. Messiah licked the side of her neck, while still holding her wrists hostage. “I’m sorry. I’m a reckless-ass nigga, but I’m your reckless-ass nigga, and you’re a spoiled-ass brat…”