The Cage: 10. Back to the Darkness of the Past

Her hand slid lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen, following the line of his hipbone. His breath hitched, his eyes narrowing.

“You think you can seduce my past out of me?” he growled.

Her lips curved in a dangerous smile. “You’ve given me your body. Your rage. Your control. Why not the rest?”

Her hand slipped lower, fingers brushing over the hardness already stirring beneath the sheets. His groan was guttural, half-anger, half-need. He caught her wrist, but too late—she had already wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slow, deliberate.

“Tell me,” she whispered against his ear, her breath hot, “or I’ll make you beg instead.”

His laugh was jagged, broken. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Her strokes quickened. His hips jerked despite himself, his hand tightening on her wrist as though he couldn’t decide whether to stop her or push her faster.

“Tell me,” she demanded again, her lips pressing to his throat, biting softly.

Fina