Page 65 of Pink Ink

Desire unfurls low in my stomach, demanding friction. Through the silk dress, I can feel my nipples harden beneath the bralette that won’t hide how he’s affecting me.

Maddox sees it. I know he does because he stops rolling his sleeve, stare caught on the rise and fall of my chest. His nostrils flare.

Oh, this is bad.

But I don’t want to stop him.

With languid movements, he slides his knee between my legs to lean his weight against the edge of the sofa. He wedges himself higher until he’s inches away from the apex of my thighs, forcing my legs farther apart.

I grip the armrest to stop myself from closing the distance. He’ll feel how soaked I am if he gets any nearer.

Carefully, like he’s giving me the chance to run for the hills, Maddox places one hand on the headrest behind me and lowers the other to my throat. One by one, his fingers curl around my neck, tipping my head back so I have no choice but to drown in the sight of him.

I shiver beneath him and grasp on to the arm that’s holding me down. My grip only lasts a second before my hand falls to my side. I wholeheartedly believe that if I told him to stop, he would. So when he squeezes, I stay right where I am.

His green eyes smolder and turn into a deeper shade of emerald; then his pupils blow out completely at the part of my lips.

“There’s an art to it. Too much pressure on the front of the neck, and I’m just hitting your windpipe.” His voice is low. Barely a rasp. He adjusts his hand to evenly distribute the pressure around my throat. “If I press the sides, you’ll still be able to breathe.” Dipping his head down, his hot breath fans my warm skin. “Every breath you take is because I’m allowing it. If I want you to stop breathing”—he tightens his grip—“you will.”

I try to inhale, but his fingers tighten, and the world narrows to the press of his skin against my throat. The darkness I sensed lurking in his soul is coming out to play with mine, and they’re getting along far too well.

Maddox’s knee between my legs inches dangerously close, and in a moment of absolute weakness, I shift my hips to meet him halfway. What’s left of my breath stutters out in a violent shudder the moment we make contact.

I can’t think about anything else when it feels this good to press my aching sex against him. Like how he’s my professor, and I’m his student. Or that he’s choking me on his couch on campus.

There are a thousand reasons why this can’t happen. A million more on why this will tip me well over the edge so that I’ll never emotionally recover.

Every cell in my body is singing. My senses heightened, turning my gray world into various shades of colors I’ve never seen before. I’ve never felt so alive. No one has ever made me feel this way, and it’s maddening because he’s barely touched me.

I want to grasp on to the addictive feeling and never let go. After what I’ve gone through these past few years, I’m craving a slice of this: freedom. Liberation. The chance to let go because I’ll fall into a better place.

It’s more than a distraction or a means to an end. Just for today, I want to shed the weight of my past and future. Live in the now, and… I’m curious about how far this will go.

If he’s worried about his job, he can let go, and we can pretend none of this happened.

Until then, the world ending wouldn’t stop the cant of my hips against his knee. The friction has me biting my lip to stop from making a sound.

My eyelids grow heavy when a low growl builds at the back of his throat.

“The things I want to do to you, love.” His voice comes out hoarse. Strained. Possessed.

Maddox shifts his knee, applying more pressure against my core. A bolt of pleasure goes up my spine. I whimper from the ache thrumming low in my stomach that pulses to a frantic rhythm.

His scent is like my very own aphrodisiac. I’m drunk on his proximity.

I claw at his arms in a soundless request for him to do it again. He curses under his breath and lets go of my throat, placing both hands on either side of my head like he’s forbidding himself from touching me.

“Stop me from making a mistake.”

Those six words are sobering.

I don’t want to be anyone’s mistake, least of allhis. I clamor away from his leg to escape his orbit, stilling when he traps me in place by lowering his face to mine. His stubble whispers against my skin, lips just soft enough to leave the faintest mark. When he speaks, I don’t recognize the sound of his voice. It’s darker, like another side of him has taken control.

“I didn’t say you could get up.”

Mixed signals.Again.

Maddox’s gaze drops to my lips, and he wets his own like he’s hungry for a taste.