Imogen’s pov

My hands trembled as they went to the straps of the lingerie, pulling them down inch by inch.

His eyes tracked every movement like a predator— making me feel naked long before the lace actually hit the floor.

“Slower,” he warned, his tone sharp. “This isn’t about your hunger, princess. It’s about control and satisfying my hunger.”

God! The way he said it, like I already belonged to him made my knees threaten to give way.

The lingerie finally slipped down my thighs, gathering at my ankles. I stepped out of it carefully, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he murmured, taking a sip of his whiskey, casual...