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𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝟛𝕣𝕕, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟛, 𖡡 𝕆𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖, 𝔻𝕖𝕟𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕜
Richard's hands roamed over my bare skin, his touch both firm and possessive as the kiss deepened. He seemed to sense the shift in me, the vulnerability beneath my desire, and it only made him hold me tighter, his fingers digging into my hips as if he could pull me closer, fuse us together.
His lips broke from mine for a brief second, his forehead resting against mine as we both caught our breath. His voice was low, a mix of husky need and restrained control. "I heard what you said to her. What you told Gabriella... about me being yours."
His words sent a shock of heat through me, the possessiveness in his tone reigniting the fire that had been simmering between us. I wanted to deny it, to downplay the intensity of what I had said, but there was no point. He knew. He had heard me, and part of me wanted him to.
"I meant it," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. "You are mine."
The way his eyes darkened told me I had said exactly what he needed to hear. His grip on my waist tightened, and he kissed me again, harder this time, with a desperation that mirrored my own. But this wasn't enough for him—he needed more.
"You fought for me," he murmured against my lips, his voice a low growl. "Now show me."
Before I could respond, he pulled back slightly, his hands slipping down to my thighs, urging me to wrap my legs around him. His lips trailed down my neck, and I shivered as he pressed me against the cool metal of the stage frame, the cold biting through the heat building between us.
"I want to see that fire," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin as his lips brushed the sensitive spot just below my ear. "Like before. Like when you told her exactly what you'd do to me."
The memory of the argument with Gabriella flashed in my mind—how I had thrown every ounce of confidence into those words, as if daring her to try and take him from me. But this was different. Here, with him, in the shadows of the stage, that confidence wavered. He wanted me to fight for him again, to prove that I wanted him just as badly.
"Richard..." I whispered, but my words were cut off as he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me deeper into the shadows of the stage, past the lingering equipment and instruments until we were in the secluded backstage area. The same space where I had confronted Gabriella not long ago. Now, it felt different—charged, intimate. Like this moment had been waiting for us.
He pressed me against the wall, his body pinning mine, his eyes locking onto mine with a possessiveness that made my knees weak. "Show me," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "Show me you mean it."
I swallowed, the challenge clear. He wanted me to prove myself, to fight for him again, to earn every inch of him. And I wanted to—I wanted to claim him just as he had claimed me.
