Chapter 265
Her name left his lips, low and rough, like a question wrapped in
something dangerous.
“Isla?”
Isla had no choice but to turn and face him.
For a moment, Graham just stared, his expression unreadable, his
dark eyes raking over her like a slow–burning fire. It was as if he
didn’t quite believe she was standing there, in his room, willingly.
His gaze swept over her, taking in every inch–her flushed face, the
way her breath hitched, the delicate tremor in her fingers. And then,
lower.
She felt it like a physical touch, the way his eyes lingered on the thin,
almost threadbare nightgown clinging to her frame. It was nothing
special, just an old, loose white thing that had seen better days, but
standing under his scrutiny, she suddenly wished she had
something… sexier. Something sheer, something enticing. But she
didn’t own anything like that.
Not that it mattered.
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Because from the way he was looking at her, that nightgown might as
well have been sinful silk.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, blooming down her neck, spreading across
her chest. She was blushing–no, burning. Her skin felt feverish,
hypersensitive, as though his mere presence was enough to unravel
her.
And then he moved.
Closing the distance between them, step by deliberate step.
The dim halo of light from the bathroom cast him in a golden glow,
illuminating the fine droplets of water still clinging to his skin, the
deep lines of muscle, the dark shadow of damp hair curling against
his forehead.
And his eyes.
God, his eyes.
They gleamed like molten obsidian beneath thick, dark lashes, and
there was something dangerous in them–something that made her heart slam against her ribs.
Something sinful.
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Chapter 265
There was no innocence in that gaze. Not an ounce of restraint.
It was raw. Hungry. Possessive.
And Isla… Isla wasn’t sure she even understood the depths of what
that meant.
But she could feel it.
“I—I think I should go.”
The words barely escaped her lips, a breathless, trembling squeak.
But before she could take a single step, his hand shot out, locking
around her wrist in an iron grip.
She gasped, startled, but her breath hitched for an entirely different
reason when he tugged her forward, erasing the space between them.
“You foolish woman,” he growled, his voice low, rough–dangerous.
And then his mouth crashed against hers.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was an assault. A ruthless, punishing claim that
stole the very air from her lungs. His lips moved over hers with an
unrelenting hunger, devouring, demanding, taking everything she had
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to give and more.
Isla barely had a chance to react before his other hand tangled in her
hair, gripping the back of her neck, holding her firmly in place as he
deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping past her lips to conquer her
completely.
She whimpered, half in protest, half in surrender, but the sound only
seemed to provoke him further.
His arm snaked around her waist, yanking her flush against his bare
chest, the heat of his damp skin branding her through the thin fabric
of her nightgown. He was solid, unyielding muscle, every inch of him
taut with barely restrained control, and she felt caged, overwhelmed
-consumed.
The kiss was fierce, almost cruel, his lips bruising against hers as he
plundered her mouth, claiming, possessing, until the sting of it
blurred into something else entirely–something dark and dizzying,
something that made her pulse pound between her legs.
Isla had never felt anything like it.
Not the brutal intensity of his kiss.
Not the way his grip kept her utterly at his mercy.
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And certainly not the slow, aching realization that despite the almost
punishing ferocity of it all…
She liked it.
God help her, but she was starting to crave the very pain he was
branding her with.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
