His grip was iron around her throat—firm but not cruel. Possessive. Hungry. A warning, not a punishment.
"I told you," Rafael murmured against her ear, voice low, silken with threat, "never run from me again."
Aurora trembled, not just from fear… but from the way his breath skimmed her skin, the way his body pressed into hers like she was already his again. Her back hit the wall of his bedroom with a soft thud, her heartbeat galloping in her chest as his scent filled her senses—dark cologne and sin.
"I wasn't running," she whispered. "I was breathing."
He chuckled, deep and rough, lips dragging across her cheek. "Then I'll teach you how to breathe through me."
His mouth claimed hers before she could reply, devouring. Hungry. She whimpered, arms caught between them, but she didn't resist. She couldn't. Not when his tongue invaded like a storm, tasting her like he'd been starving.
He pulled back just long enough to hiss, "Clothes. Off. Now."
