ROTTEN LOVE

DECISION| 48

His lips are claiming and desperate. They are everything Maddox is not. He is someone who is proper and composed, always in order. But, now, he is the opposite. I would say predatory.

The way his lips press harshly against mine and his hands roam my body temporarily stun me. Taken by surprise, my fight response activates. I palm his chest and push hard but he pulls me harder against him.

I intend to get away from him, but he reels me closer and my lips start to move against his, wanting as much contact as he appears to need. My hands glide up to his neck and hold onto him.

They cling desperately to him like releasing him would cause an unmistakable tragedy.

Wrong. The tragedy would be to continue. Yet, his hands make their way up my hair and I get lost.

I held him afraid to do anything further that would condemn me but he had no problem. His hand trails to my neck and it starts to feel heavy on my skin. It's possessive. With that one movement, he demonstrates the power he has over me.

I do not fear it. I never have feared him. However, to my horror, it shows that Maddox Malfatto possessed more of my heart than I gave credit.

It is easier to dismiss Maddox when Zain is present. Well, my body dismisses him but deep inside there was an ember still kindled by him.

At his mercy, the ember accumulates until I can feel a full-on blaze consuming me from the inside out. Now, I am scared. Terrified of these feelings which were no longer supposed to be present.

I quickly grab his hand at my neck and squeeze it. He lingers on my lip for a few seconds longer then slowly retreats. Our breaths mingle as we try to catch air.

My eyes focus on his chest. It expands and deflates. My heart pounds in my ears. I avoid eye contact because I do not want to fold again.

His eyes, however, linger on my face. I can sense them. His voice, rough and low, brings shivers through my persona, "Helena, look at me."

I shake my head no, anxiously wanting to avoid any other connection with him.

His head makes contact with my forehead. I let out a deep breath, still holding onto the hand at my neck. His thumb starts to make slow circles around the side of it. It would have been soothing had his touch not left a lasting imprint.

My body is what feels hot. My heart fueling it. His cold hands bring relief sizzling some of the heat but at the same time causing more.

He kisses my forehead, "Look at me, amica mea."

His voice is demanding yet comforting. I slowly make my gaze up. I lose my breath as my eyes latch onto his like they've always have. Except, they are not golden lights rather tinted orbs of red.

They aren't completely tarnished. He is in control. I've noticed his eyes have become familiar with this hue.

"You are hungry," I question, knowing it's not the only reason for his state.

"For you... I cannot eat because I only want you on my lips," there is a question in his voice. He sounds pleading.

His fangs are treacherous. The things he can have me seeing and feeling are undeniably intoxicating.

I make an excuse because I do not want to tell him that I can't handle that proximity to him; I would want more.

"Marisa would not like that," I say lowly.

He smirks, "I'm not just talking about blood."

My cheeks heat and I slightly shift at the sensation building down below.