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Everyone was under the impression that I hated her. Even Emma believed it. But I didn’t hate her. I was fucking obsessed with her.
But when Emma was in my presence, all civilized thoughts turned primal.
Hunter was my fiancé. Hunter Harlow was mine. I could do this. Right? I could do this.
Nothing could pry her out of my mind or heart, no matter what I did. I didn’t want to touch another, kiss another, fuck another, breathe around another. I just wanted her.
I couldn’t tell you what day it was. I couldn’t tell you where I was. All I knew was Hunter Harlow was kissing me, I was kissing him back—and I needed more.
“Love of my life, creature spawned from hell to torture me, woman who literally tased me the first time we met—either come inside and sit on the couch like a good girl, or leave.”
We were both fucking liars. There was no way we’d go back to normal after this.
“We’ll make it fit,” I said. “One way or another.”
“Breed me,” she gasped in my ear. “I want your cum dripping out of me.”
“Sparks. You’re playing with fire.” “I know,” she said. “But I like the burn, dimples.”
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered angrily. “I’m fucking obsessed with you. Ever since you fucking tased me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you night and day. Every waking moment, there you are, haunting me. All your little dates? Wanna know why they didn’t work out? Because I ran them all off. Every single one of them. Every. Single. One.”
