ARYA

His body caged mine, all heat and muscle and reckless power, and I wanted more. I needed more.

I barely had time to breathe before he spun me around and pressed me against the cold wall. My palms braced against it, paint smearing under my fingers.

He pulled me back by the hips and slammed into me, hard, a cry ripping from my throat.

Gods, he felt too good. Too right. And I was so fucking tired of pretending I didn't crave him.

"Fuck—" he ...