I'm Not Your Whore!

ke inhaling the thick scent of her captivity-the crisp linen sheets, the faint hint of Adrian's

in the shadows. Somewhere, Adrian was likely drinking, watching, waiting. The way he had touched her earlier-so controlled, so deliberate-was not tha

e, curling in on herself.

ge, but that didn't mean she had to

time to settle before

e hammering. Her breath

rt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves still rolled to his forearms, the epitome of controlle

omach

where he stood. Then, after a moment, he stepped in

ce to remain steady.

amused by her defiance. "My wife in

sheets. "This isn't a m

ou are. Wearing my ring. Sleeping in my house. Whethe

bubbling in her throa

n moved closer. The air in the room

f the bed, his gaze unwa

furrowed

y, his voice a dark

breath

He was taunting her, daring her to leave, k

e world outside this mansion wasn't a refuge-it was ju

night. But then what? There were no allies waiting for her. No esc

rian k

his smirk deepen. "T

ned in h

hell,"

ed against her cheek-light, deliberate, a caress meant to remind

eetheart," he murmured

ened, stepping back as

s. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her vo

ever submit to yo

r a long moment, then

he turned and walked away, l

er he was gone, her breat

sle wanted h

break easily, he had no id