MAEVE'S POV
There wasn't a grain of hesitation in the way he took me. Like he had something to prove—something he'd craved for months, years even.
Like he was done pretending he didn't want this.
His tongue slid past my lips, tasting, taking, owning.
I was too frozen to kiss him back at first, breath caught between the inferno of want that came alive in me and the instinct to shove him off.
Nonetheless, like I'd lost my fucking mind, I didn't do the latter.
Instead, my fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a world that had gone sideways.
He groaned—deep, dark, feral with desire—and the sound went straight to my thighs.
Ivan didn't let up. His hand fisted the back of my shirt, dragging me closer until there was no space left to breathe.
It was humiliating how easily I melted under him, how easily my body remembered him.
