Chapter 4

Sienna's POV

This wasn't a gentle kiss. His tongue pried open my lips and teeth, invading my mouth with punishing force. I tasted the bitterness of whiskey and his long-suppressed desire.

My fingers unconsciously clutched his collar, wanting to push away, but it turned into deeper pulling. One hand gripped the back of my neck, the other slid up from my waist, feeling every curve of my body through the thin silk dress.

"You say you don't want anything to do with me," he released my lips, kissing along my jawline to behind my ear, "but your body is very honest, Sienna."

Two and a half years, and he still knew my body so well. Where I was sensitive, where would make me lose control—he knew better than I did.

His fingers hooked the thin straps on my shoulders, the neckline of the dress sliding down. I trembled all over, not knowing if it was from cold or his burning touch.

"Ethan, don't—" My voice was pitifully soft, not even convincing myself.

"Don't what?" He laughed lowly, voice full of sarcasm. "Don't touch you? Don't remind you what you were like in my bed?"

His kisses fell on my collarbone with punishing force, leaving red marks on my skin. Each kiss was like claiming ownership, like punishing me for leaving back then.

"You think you left and I'd let you go?" He whispered in my ear, voice dangerous and seductive. "You think you could take the money I gave for your mother's medical bills, the tuition I funded and live a life unrelated to me?"

His hand slid into my dress, fingers grazing the inside of my thigh. That familiar touch made me almost unable to stand, only able to clutch his shoulders for support.

I closed my eyes, trying to escape it all. But he wouldn't allow it.

"Look at me." He commanded, voice low and forceful.

I opened my eyes, meeting his bloodshot gaze.

His fingers tightened, almost digging into my thigh. "But tonight I saw you, saw you still wearing those earrings—you never let me go."

He was right. I never let him go. These two and a half years, I tortured myself every day, masochistically reminding myself what I once had.

But I couldn't admit it. Once I admitted it, my sacrifice back then would be meaningless.

"Do you remember?" He suddenly asked, fingers sliding deeper. "The first time you cried in front of me was because you couldn't pay your mother's medical bills. You knelt in the hospital corridor like a helpless child."

Tears burst from my eyes. That memory was too painful, I thought I'd buried it.

"I gave you money, you said you'd pay me back." He laughed coldly. "But you never paid back a cent. Because you knew I wouldn't take it."

His fingers continued their invasion with punishing force. I bit my lip, not letting myself make a sound.

"Later when your mother's condition worsened, I gave you more money. You still said you'd pay me back." His voice grew colder. "But you still didn't. Because you knew I couldn't bear to make you pay back."

He suddenly withdrew his hand, turning me around to face the door. My hands were pressed against the door by him, body pressed tightly against the cold wood.

"I paid for your graduate school, helped you every thing." He pressed against me from behind, voice at my ear. "I gave you everything you wanted. But what did you give me?"

He roughly tore my dress, the sound of the zipper extraordinarily harsh in the silent room.

"A 'we're done'?"

Cold air hit me, I trembled all over. His palm pressed against my bare back, carrying scorching heat.

"Do you know what I did after that night?" His voice was hoarse, carrying almost desperate questioning. "I stood at the window, watching your taillights disappear into the night. I told myself you were just a woman who was with me for money."

His kiss fell on my shoulder blade with punishing force.

"But I couldn't hate you." His voice suddenly softened, carrying a heartbreaking fragility. "I fucking couldn't."

His hand slid to my waist, turning me around to face him again. I saw the bloodshot in his eyes, and that almost manic possessiveness.

His kiss fell again, this time more fierce, more reckless. His hands tore at my clothes, as if to tear me apart and reassemble me.

I should resist. I should push him away, should tell him this was all wrong.

But when his fingers slid into my body, I collapsed.

"Ethan—" I cried out his name, not knowing if I was begging for mercy or begging for more.

"Say my name." He commanded, voice hoarse and dangerous. "Like before, say my name."

His fingers moved inside me with familiar rhythm. Two and a half years, and he still understood me so well. He knew how to make me lose control, knew how to make me completely collapse before him.

"Ethan—please—" I cried and begged, legs weak, only able to lean on him for support.

"Please what?" He whispered in my ear. "Please stop? Or please continue?"

His fingers suddenly quickened, I almost fainted.

"Please—stop—" I cried, but my body honestly cooperated with his movements.

"Your mouth says stop," he laughed coldly, "but your body begs me to continue."

He suddenly withdrew his fingers, lifting me onto the table. My dress had completely fallen open, exposed before him.

He stood before me, gaze brazenly surveying me. That naked possessiveness made me tremble all over.

"Do you know what I've wanted most these two and a half years?" He asked, voice low and dangerous.

I shook my head, not daring to answer.

"I wanted to tie you to the bed," he leaned in, fingers tracing my collarbone, "make you cry and beg me, like now."

His hand slid to the inside of my thigh, moving up slowly and torturously.

"I want you to remember," he whispered in my ear, "you'll never escape me in this lifetime."

His fingers entered again, this time deeper, harder. I bit my lip, not letting myself cry out.

"Don't hold back." He commanded. "I want to hear your voice."

His fingers suddenly curved, touching that spot that made me lose control. I couldn't hold back anymore, crying out.

"That's it." He laughed with satisfaction. "My Sienna, still so sensitive."

His other hand tore the fabric at my chest, leaning down to take the sensitive peak in his mouth. The licking of his tongue coordinated with the rhythm of his fingers, almost driving me insane.

"Ethan—I can't—I'm going to—"

"Going to what?" He looked up, gaze dangerous. "Say it."

"I'm going to—" I cried, unable to say it.

"Say it." He stopped all movement. "Or I'll stop."

"I need you—" I finally collapsed. "Please—"

He smiled with satisfaction, fingers suddenly quickening. My body undulated like waves, completely losing control under his command.

Just as I was about to reach the peak, he suddenly withdrew his hand.

"No—" I cried and begged him. "Please—"

"Remember this feeling." He said cruelly. "Remember how much you need me."

He lifted me down from the table, straightening my disheveled clothes. I was completely weak, only able to stand by leaning on him.

"Next time," he whispered in my ear, "I won't let you off so easily."

He opened the door, cold wind rushing in. I trembled as I walked out, legs weak, almost unable to stand.

His voice came from behind, low and dangerous:

"Sienna, you can't escape."

I staggered away, tears blurring my vision.

My dress was in disarray, my collarbone and neck covered with marks he'd left. I frantically tried to straighten my clothes, but found I couldn't hide those red marks no matter what.

Damn it.

I bypassed the main deck, leaving the yacht through the side door. Cold wind hit my face, carrying the dampness of lake water, but couldn't cool my burning body.

The moment I sat in the car, I finally collapsed.

Tears burst out, I bit my fist hard to keep from crying aloud.

He was right. I couldn't escape him.

Because that night two and a half years ago, when I took Eleanor's check and told him those decisive lies, I'd already left my heart with him.

I could never escape.