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Every time I’m with Micah, I’m weak. It’s the control he has over me. We’ve changed… I sense it—he must sense it, too. I know it pains him, and I don’t know if we can ever go back to the way it was between us. When I was blind to the rest of the world, and only he mattered.

He made it that way. He made himself my only lifeline, my entire existence. It’s the textbook definition of abuse. An abuse I apparently crave because I deplore that his lips are so close to mine and he’s not kissing me. In fact, he moves his hands away from me, positioning himself a couple of inches away from my body.

My eyes open, and I turn to face him.

He moves his hand, and after a few seconds, he parts my lips and slips a piece of meat between them.

I salivate at the savory flavor and the rich, meaty texture.

It makes me weak, but I can’t resist biting into that meat, licking the flavor off his fingers. I chew…. I think strongly about biting his thumb off as he presses it into my mouth as I swallow.

He chuckles darkly, running his fingers over my lips. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, sweetheart.”

I snap my mouth shut, and he grips my hips and squeezes, nudging his body against mine. He wraps his powerful arm tightly around me, the muscles in his biceps nearly suffocating me.

I turn to face him and run my fingers down the curve of his nose and under his eye. His broody, pouty lips tease me.

We stare at each other for a moment, neither making a move.

“Your choice, London King,” he whispers, his voice rough and raw. “I’ll never force you, and if you say no, I’ll stop.”

I devour his lips, slipping my tongue into his mouth, infusing him with my newfound energy. It’s as if the breath I was missing suddenly floods back with a single kiss. He moans softly and effortlessly pulls me onto him.

I can’t think about tomorrow or the day after. With my current mental capacity, I’m incapable of processing anything beyond my immediate physical urges and desires. Right now, I want him. Fuck, I want him more than anything. I’ll worry about tomorrow and the hard decisions I have to make when it comes. The intensity of my desire for him surpasses all else, and at least for tonight, my anger relinquishes.

He is what I need in this moment.

I take control, biting his lower lip, then moving my lips to his neck. Longing for every inch of him, my kisses turn desperate. His hands slide to my lower back, and he slowly pulls off my sweats. He moans, and it nearly breaks me. He pulls my body closer to his, resting his hands on my hips.

“Pull those wet panties down, London. I want to see how badly you missed me.” He kisses my ear and cups my neck. “Because I missed you, too, baby.”

I snap my head up, my muddy hair lingering in my face. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I breathe, but pulling my underwear down nonetheless.

He kisses me hard and deep, pulling me down to him. “Yeah, I know,” he says after ripping his lips off mine. He turns me over so I’m lying on my back, the firelight making his eyes blaze as his muscled body looms over me. “But you still want me, don’t you?”

His fingers find my center, stroking my clit. There is no hiding how much I want him. “Always so fucking needy,” he murmurs. My traitorous body is dripping for him. I can’t help my response to him because every part of him—the dark, dirty, soft, loving, every hard edge that makes up the fabric of Micah—is home to me now.

His lips find the skin on my neck, and his tongue begins to mark it. “Say those words to me, London.” He smells so good… even his saliva smells delicious.

My stomach clenches at the toxicity of this. How broken we actually are… “Please, Micah.”

His eyebrows arch. “Please what? I need you to say it, London.” His face is pained like this is eating him up, too—or the guilt is, at the very least. The realization of how much control he has over me is slowly sinking in for him. Either that, or he missed me and felt our souls severing when we were apart.

I pause, aware of our surroundings: the blackened trees, the lingering threat, and how close the others are, probably listening to us.

I don’t fucking care.

It’s been five days of pure torture, hunger, thirst, and captivity—almost losing my sanity. I deserve comfort without the guilt that constantly affects me.

I move my knee between his legs, ignoring the rocks and hard sticks digging into my back underneath the blanket. He needs to know this is consensual. “Please, Micah. I want you inside me. I need you so badly.”

“Fuck.” He unleashes himself from his pants and enters me easily, my pussy clenching around him and a jolt of pleasure nipping at my core. Our hearts beat together as if they are one.

He’s soft as he fucks me, and I whimper because my body is on the verge of collapse. He pushes in deeper, his hands roaming to my breasts, pinching my nipples and causing me to moan.

He cups my mouth as he pushes in and out of me. “Shh, baby. Keep it down. I don’t want your little boyfriend to interrupt us again.”

My boyfriend? He can’t possibly be talking about James because that’s ridiculous.