He tugged me close until our chests smashed together. “You know I would. No delusions, sweetheart. It’s decision time. Stay or go?”

“Stay.” The alternative of never seeing him again, of never experiencing his kiss or the possessive way his body claimed mine, that was something I wasn’t willing to give up. If taking the pain he needed to inflict would grant me freedom from the burden of my guilt, would grant him relief from his own pain, then I’d take whatever he dished out.

He hefted me into his arms and strode to the stepladder. I slid to my feet, shuffling them with impatience as he brought the stairs down. As soon as we reached the loft, he pulled me against him, my back to his front.

“I’m gonna make you beg for it, gonna make you cry until you can’t breathe for wanting me.”

“Too late.”

“Do you understand why you reached orgasm with him?”

I bit my lip, nodding, my mouth trembling as the memories surfaced. “Because I’m fucked up.”

“So am I, and we’re gonna be fucked up together, but I want you to answer something first.”

I peeked at him over my shoulder. “What is it?”

“Did you crave him the way you crave me?” He grabbed my thigh and lifted, urging my foot around his calf. “Did your body ache and throb for him”—he slid a hand inside my sweats, fingers dipping into the inferno raging inside me—“the way it does for me?

“Never,” I groaned, pushing into his palm.

“Then drop the guilt and shame. He exploited the way you’re wired, used it against you. I’m gonna make you fucking embrace it.”

He moved around and jerked my pants down my legs. My panties went next, ripped to shreds by his fingers. He fisted the collar of my tee in both hands and pulled until it split in two, right down to my navel. I stared at him in wonder, mouth hanging open.

“Rafe—”

“Don’t talk. Just feel.”

I felt, all right. He pushed the tattered shirt from my shoulders and slid my bra straps down my arms. He lowered the satin cups until my breasts tumbled out, and somehow, leaving the garment on made the act more forbidden. I felt the weight of his gaze on me, his tongue darting between lips I craved, and I would have given anything to have his tongue on my skin, but he didn’t taste, didn’t touch. He only looked, and looked some more until I thought I’d explode from his stare alone.

“Get on the bed.”

I stumbled back, legs too shaky to do anything else, and fell onto the mattress. I reached behind me to unclasp the bra, but his growl stilled my hands.

“Don’t do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

I nodded.

“Stand on your knees, hands behind your back.”