I was panting. I was hot. My thighs opened wider. My hips chased the feeling of his fingers.
He stopped stroking me. "Answer me."
I didn't want to. I was still mad. He called me a slut. He degraded me with his insults. I should've kept quiet. Or maybe told him the truth. I should've remembered the words from that goddessforsaken book.
Never say the things you don't mean.
But I hated how much he could unravel me with a single touch. I hated how much under my skin he had gotten. I hated him.
So I looked him in the eye—his still pitch black eyes—and said, "Cole does it better than you."
His expression shifted from angry to murderous.
I knew then that I had crossed some invisible line and obliterated it. I didn't know what it was. But there was no coming back from it.
Soren's fingers plunged inside me.
