He exhaled sharply, a tremor of defiance flickering across his features. “Fuck you.”
But the words lacked fire.
Lacked conviction.
She matched his whisper, but hers carried weight.
“Open your mouth.”
A war raged behind his eyes.
Adria could see the moment he gave in.
His pink lips parting and satisfaction curled in her chest. But she didn’t let it show. Not yet. Instead, she traced her thumb along his bottom lip, feeling the heat of his breath against her skin.
Then she pressed inside.
Capturing his tongue.
Pushing down.
Seth inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating, his body thrumming beneath her touch.
Adria stepped in closer, crowding him.
“Why do you think so little of yourself?” she asked, her voice steady, unshaken.
His breath hitched.
His legs buckled.
And then?—
He sank.
Down.
To his knees.
His breathing quickened, warm and uneven against her wrist.
She didn’t stop him.
Didn’t release him.
“I started playing chess with you because I knew I could win,” she murmured, watching his pupils blow wide.
“I kept playing because I wanted to rile you up. To throw you off your game.”
Saliva gathered in his mouth, and he swallowed thickly. His eyes watered, desperate, locked onto hers.
“But we are going to keep playing,” she said, pressing her thumb down once more, just enough to remind him that she was in control.
“Not because I enjoy watching you fail?—”
She leaned in, her voice a whisper against his lips.
“—but because I know you can win.”
