You Were Never Free

His hand was wrapped around my throat, and I couldn't breathe.

Whatever air I was getting was thin as hell, borrowed, barely enough to keep me from blacking out. And his face was right there, way too fucking close...so close all I could smell was cedar, whiskey, and that familiar scent of him that pissed me off even more.

"You blocked me on everything." His voice came out low and rough, but there was something cracked underneath it. Something he was fighting like hell to keep buried.

His thumb pressed harder against the side of my throat.

My hands flew to his forearm, fingers digging into his flesh, but that shit was solid as stone. He didn't even flinch. "So I wouldn't catch you." His jaw flexed and he clenched his teeth hard.

Those gray eyes searched mine, and somehow, it wasn't anger staring back at me anymore. It was worse than anger.

"When you spread your legs for another man." He dragged every word out slow, deliberate, his voice damn near a whisper. "Hm, mama?"

My chest rose hard against his.

"Do you like seeing me like this?"

His forehead dropped against mine. His voice cracked, just barely, and I swear to God, I had never heard that sound come out of Viktor Ascher in fourteen damn years.

"I'm about to lose my fucking mind, Ayanna."

His grip loosened.

Just the slightest.

"Please."

The word brushed against my face, so quiet I almost thought I imagined it.

"Baby." He let out another shaky breath. "Please don't do this shit to me."

I had never heard this man say please. Not since 10 years of marriage.

Fourteen months after signing the divorce papers, Viktor Ascher cannot watch his ex-wife breathe without making it his business. He said he didn't want her, but now regrets ever uttering those words. He can't stomach another man touching what his hands still remember. And in his mind Ayanna is still his.