Keeping her arms pinned with one arm wrapped tightly around her, his fist bunched in her hair and he dragged her head back. She looked into his golden eyes, dark now with heat. Intense hunger. So much possession. She watched his mouth come down toward hers and she should have moved—should have fought him—but her breath left her lungs in a rush and she was lost in her own need. His mouth was hard and demanding, a crush of command, a taking, a branding and she tasted lust, tasted sin and sex. She tasted him.

She’d forgotten that addicting taste. Her mouth opened to him and she indulged her need, feeding there, feeling taken when all he was doing was kissing her, over and over, his lips rough, his mouth hot, his tongue stroking caresses into a fire that threatened to consume her. She heard her own strangled whimper, a sound of intense need escaping before she could think to prevent it.

She could no longer think clearly, her brain fogging over, her skull too tight, the throbbing beat of hunger like a jackhammer in her head. Her breasts ached, nipples hard and straining against the thin material of her bra. She couldn’t stop rubbing against him, needing the hard pressure of his thigh to relieve the terrible ache that wouldn’t stop, yet knowing it wouldn’t be enough until he filled her completely. His mouth moved on her shoulder—a burning brand and he whispered low and sexy in her ear.

“Stop fighting it, Sestrilla, let it happen.”

His voice, that sexy, velvet whisper of sin triggered the drenching orgasm that flashed through her body like a firestorm. She writhed in utter shame, as her heart slammed too hard in her chest and the waves of heat rippled and pulsed through her.

He knew. He knew what he did to her, she could hear it in the humming satisfaction rumbling in his chest, the purr emanating from his throat. Tears burned behind her eyes. She hated her lack of control, the raw need that tormented her in his presence. He should have been the last person whose touch she needed, yet here she was, a few hours in his company, allowing his touch—craving his touch.

How did she wrench her soul free from him? Take her heart back? Stop her body’s response? He’d left her empty. Broken. He was a terrible obsession she couldn’t get over, no matter how hard she fought. She had no idea how to stop the deadly hunger every time she looked at him. His voice alone triggered it. She was caught in his trap, in the illusion he wove and she couldn’t break free.