Elena should have pushed him away.
Should have kept fighting.
Should have held on to the anger, the hatred, the resistance.
But the moment Alessio's lips crashed into hers…
She broke.
A shudder ripped through her body, and before she could stop herself, her hands fisted in his shirt.
Holding him. Pulling him closer.
His grip on her tightened, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
As if he had known—all along—
That she would give in eventually.
And God help her…
She had.
His mouth was hot, demanding, ruthless.
Just like him.
Just like everything about him.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't gentle.
It was a war.
A battle she should have kept fighting.
But when his hands slid down her back, gripping her hips—
When he pressed her against the wall, caging her in—
A whimper escaped her lips.
Alessio growled.
The sound vibrated deep in his chest, raw and possessive.
It sent a thrill through her veins, a rush of something dark and intoxicating.
She wanted to hate this.
Wanted to hate him.
But her body was a traitor.
Because when he bit her lower lip, dragging a moan from her throat—
When his fingers tightened on her hips, pulling her closer—
She didn't fight.
She melted.
Alessio pulled back, his breath ragged.
His silver eyes burned, scanning her face.
Taking in her parted lips, her dazed expression, the way she trembled in his arms.
Something dark and victorious flickered in his gaze.
"You see?" he murmured, brushing his knuckles along her jaw.
"You never stood a chance, Elena."
Her stomach twisted.
Because he was right.
And now…
She didn't know if she could ever escape him.