Chapter 131 A Twisted
Sense Of Amusement
Marvin’s car faded into the distance, its engine’s hum dwindling as he left Renee to navigate her way out of the
dimly lit underground parking lot. Right before she reached the stairs, an unexpected grip tightened around
her wrist.
Instinctively, Renee whipped her other hand back, aiming for a strike, but the man was quicker. His grip was
iron–tight, intercepting her fist with an ease that spoke of deep familiarity.
Only someone who knew her intimately, who could predict her every move, could have managed such a feat-
not even Ryder, with all his training sessions with her, could match this precision.
Renee’s gaze sharpened, trying to identify him. His sturdy frame and a scent she knew all too well stirred something in her mind. Her grip loosened, though she’d been a heartbeat away from unsheathing the blade she
carried, honed to perfection.
“William, what do you want?” Renee’s voice was steady, her eyes narrowing as she tried to read his intentions.
With a firm, unyielding grip, William spun her to face him, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. There was no escaping his hold. She met his gaze, which seemed distant yet intensely focused on her, as if trying to decipher her soul.
His eyes, red and raw, swept over her face with a meticulous scrutiny.
“Is your smile just for me, or do other men get it as well?”
The question caught her off–guard, leaving her momentarily speechless.
Before she could gather her thoughts, William’s lips crashed against hers.
His kiss was desperate, like that of a man starved of affection, drawing the breath from her lungs. His tongue sought hers, demanding and insistent, as if trying to claim something lost.
Deep down, she felt an instinctive urge to resist, to shove him away, but the stark difference in their physical strength was painfully clear. He forced her back against the wall, his aggression leaving her no option but to gasp in surprise and open her mouth.
This was exactly what he had been waiting for.
He dove in as if he’d discovered something exquisite, savoring the moment with a greedy intensity, voraciously consuming her breaths, his tongue fiercely entangling with hers.
Memories of their past physical intimacy began to chip away at her resolve. They had once been husband and wife–though their union had lacked warmth, they had shared undeniable chemistry in the confines of their bedroom. They had made love passionately, repeatedly; it was never about love, but pure physical attraction.
He knew precisely how to kiss her, how to make her melt.
And that was exactly why she was seething with anger.
What gave him the nerve to assume she was still the same?
Her eyes snapped open, and in a flash of fury and humiliation, she bit down hard on his lip, pouring all her strength into the act.
But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, overwhelming her protests with even more fervor.
He was utterly mad!
The tang of blood melded with their breaths, an iron tang that he seemed to relish with a near–maddening fervor, drawing her into a kiss so deep it bordered on vampiric. His hands framed her face with an intensity that bordered on possession.
“Don’t you dare touch other men. Don’t glance at them, and don’t even think about holding their hands!” he muttered fiercely against her lips. “Renee, don’t drive me to the brink. I might actually lock you away if you
push me!”
She had barely a moment to respond.
His lips claimed hers again, this time with a ferocity that swallowed any protest she might have made. The mingling of their blood became a perverse sort of intimacy, the taste of metal becoming part of their shared
breath.
Their kiss, a clash of warmth against coolness, bound them in a passionate embrace.
Renee’s thoughts blurred, her senses heightened as his kisses trailed from her lips to her earlobe, down to her chin, and lingered at her most vulnerable spot–her neck.
As his mouth settled over her carotid artery, the throb of her pulse palpable against his lips, she recoiled instinctively, her mind flashing with alarm.
Was he seriously planning to do it right here?
Clutching at the last threads of her composure, she struck him. What was meant to be a sharp rejection only seemed to ignite his passion, his reaction dripping with a twisted sense of amusement.
