But my words fell on deaf ears. He tightened his grip and shifted, forcing us to switch positions. Now, he was on top of me, his body heavy, trapping me beneath him. His fingers intertwined with mine, pinning me down. Then, our eyes locked, and though I tried to search for a trace of the man I once knew, all I saw was control.
"I missed the way you feel, Clara," He said, his voice laced with dominance. There was no warmth in his words, only possession.
I knew better than to resist.
The last time I had, the bruises had taken weeks to fade.
So I stayed still, allowing him to take what he wanted. As he kissed me again, I felt none of the tenderness we once shared. His lips moved against mine, but it was only driven by lust and the haze of alcohol, nothing more.
"I want you naked, my wife," He murmured, his voice thick with desire.
My wife.
Those words, slipping from Donovan's lips, stirred something in me. That despite everything—the pain and the cruelty he caused me—it still made my heart lift in a way I couldn't explain.
His touches grew more insistent, and against my better judgment, I found myself giving in. I melted into his kisses, completely losing myself in the moment.