His words hung in the air, a promise and a threat all at once. My mind screamed at me to run, to slap his hand away, to scream for Landon. But my body was a traitor, rooted to the spot, leaning into his touch as if he were the sun and I were a desperate, wilting flower.

His knuckles pressed a little harder against the swell of my breast, a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn’t a caress; it was an assessment. A claim. His eyes, dark and bottomless, held mine, watching for my reaction. He saw the way my breath hitched, the way my pupils dilated. He saw my surrender...