Elena – POV
I stared at the door like it had personally betrayed me.
He was gone.
Just like that.
One second I was on the edge of begging—no, I was begging—and the next, he had pulled away like I was nothing more than a craving he could resist on a whim.
The bastard.
My lips were still swollen. My thighs, still trembling. My robe was still somewhere on the goddamn floor.
And he just… walked out.
Again.
I let out a scream—frustrated, primal, furious—and grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a pillow, and launched it at the door. It bounced harmlessly off the wood, making me even angrier.
"How dare he," I hissed to the empty room, pacing like a caged animal. "How fucking dare he."
He had me. Right there. Open, vulnerable, willing. I'd dropped every wall, every ounce of pride I had left, and gave him the one thing I never let him see—my hunger for him. And what did he do?
Walk away.
