Chapter 51 His Obsession

• The storm outside had quieted to a heavy drizzle by the time Ivy forced herself to pull away from Damien, though her body trembled from more than the cold. Her lips still burned from the harshness of his kiss, her skin prickled where his hands had roamed with deliberate possession, and her thoughts were a tangled knot of fury and desire. Every part of her screamed that she should have shoved him away, struck him, done anything to remind him that she was not his to command—yet her pulse betrayed her, quick and unsteady, every beat reminding her of the man who had drawn her into a fire she could neither resist nor extinguish.
• Damien leaned against the edge of the grand oak desk, his posture deceptively casual but his eyes dark, almost predatory, fixed on her as though she were a secret he would spend his life unraveling. He had loosened his shirt at the collar, the sleeves pushed carelessly to his forearms, revealing the faint ink of tattoos she had never seen before, lines that disappeared beneath fabric like hidden stories carved into his flesh. The lamplight struck his jaw at an angle that made him look sharper, crueler, as if the shadows themselves bent to give him weight.
• “You look at me,” he murmured finally, his voice low, edged with danger, “as if you’re torn between stabbing me and kissing me again.” His lips curved in something that was not quite a smile, more an acknowledgment of the war he saw raging behind her eyes. “Tell me, Ivy, which urge wins?”