He reaches up and cups my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. "Such a smart mouth. Pity my brother won't know how to tame it."
Fire blazes through my veins so fast my stomach cramps. "I don't need to be tamed."
"No?" He smirks.
"I stand on my own."
"Yet you'll come here every Sunday, pledging your life to a man in the sky."
I crane my neck to maintain eye contact as he presses against me, his breath hot as it coasts across my mouth, making tension twist down my spine.
"If you want a god to worship, ma petite menteuse, no need to look so far."
Scoffing, I reach up to push him away even as arousal floods through my center and pools between my legs. "You're disgusting."
He grabs my wrists, pulling me flush to his body until I can feel every hard inch of him straining against the fabric of his clothes. "I'd teach you to love begging at my feet."
My core contracts when his words hit my lips, and I suck them in as if his breath is my air. My fingers clench his shirt, but instead of pushing him away, I drag him closer.
"I'm tired of you playing games with me," I hiss.
"Is that what I'm doing?" he questions.
"Stop." Anger snaps at my nerves. "Nothing will get in my way of being Michael's bride. Not even you."
He leans back, his eyes flaring as his grip tightens around my wrists. And it's only then that I realize what I've said.
Stupid girl.
"I see." One of his hands drops from my arm and rises along my side, goose bumps sprouting in every place his fingers touch.
"You thirst for power?" he rasps, his palm ghosting across my collarbone before wrapping around my throat. "I can fill you with it until you scream."
