“You don’t get it, Molloy,” he growled as his lips claimed mine, hands moving straight to my hips, as he dragged my hips roughly against his. “I’m broken in the head. I don’t work right. I get hooked. I get so fucking addicted, and if we keep this up, I won’t let go. I won’t be able to.” If he intended to scare me, then he’d failed. His words had the opposite effect. “Good,” I breathed. “Because I don’t want you to.”
