The Edge of the World

Chapter Twenty-two

She couldn't breathe. Perhaps it was because his hard, powerful stare bade her lungs to quit working. Or perhaps it was because his words seized control of her body, wringing her insides like fists twisting a damp cloth, but either way, she struggled to take in air and release it. Her battle to maintain control over her lecherous body didn't stop him from continuing his speech, didn't force him to find some sympathy for her, and just walk away, to leave her cold and lethargic as she'd been every night upon bedtime.

No, he added fuel to the fire in her core, stoically laughing at her shock, need, and confusion.

"I've ridden you already, Tatum. Throughout time and distance, I've taken your body any and every way imaginable. Even on this godforsaken island, I've had you. On these cots, I've had you."

She shook her head, not to deny his truth but to clear her mind, seeking answers on how she should handle this situation. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, stepping backwards until the bed separated them and spoke through her erratic breaths.

"Doc, I think you should calm down and take a little break. Yeah? If lines are crossed, we can't take them back."

He scoffed at her warning, his muscles tightening beneath the thin material of his tee-shirt. His hair swooped forward, making his eyes look more demonic than anything.

But Tatum yearned to touch the demon he was, and hated how much.

"We crossed lines ions ago. You recognize this just as I do. I know your body, Tatum, better than I know my own. I know you like it rough. You scratch and bite, you run, and I chase. It's who we are. I remember what you sound like when you come. You're so fucking loud and wet, willing and mine. I want what belongs to me, and as much as I fight it, it's a need I've carried since meeting you. It's become a necessity, like eating. You're my food. Lie to me, Tatum, and tell me you don't want it too."

She stared at him through the distance and firelight, her throat going dry even as she tried to find the words to deny him. Her body laughed at her, as did the ghosts in her head.

"I don't belong to anybody but myself."

He raised a brow as he stepped towards her, moving in slow predatory strides around the bed, her only barrier, and closing the distance between them.

"You still aren't telling me to stop, Tatum. Tell me to stop. Just open your mouth and say it. I'm no rapist. I'll stop of you ask."

"This is wrong," she whispered when he paused before her, so close his breath brushed her lips, and the ends of his hair moved across her cheeks as he leaned in.

"Actually, I disagree. This is right. This is as it should be."

"But Eva...," she started.

"Isn't mine," he finished.

"Neither am I."

"You are and you have always been. Tell me you don't want me, now, and hurry. This is your last chance."

His lips brushed over hers, a dry sensuous caress, making her legs weaken and heart jackhammer wildly, like the wings of a caged wild bird.

She couldn't tell him not to. She couldn't because she wanted him -had dreamed of this. Needed, and longed for it.

Yes, the voices whispered, their lust for him condensing within her, transforming inside her into their purest, rawest forms, begging her to let it happen. Let him... let him...

And then he tilted his head, sealing their fate with a kiss. At first it was nothing more than a connection, a nipping of lips. A dark sample and nothing more.