Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 228

Chapter 228: Chapter 228.

His mouth finds my neck before I can even fully process the way my body is reacting.

One moment it’s tension.....sharp, electric and barely contained.

The next, he’s there with breath is hot against my skin as his grip tightens at my waist, pulling me firmly into him like he’s decided distance is no longer an option.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me when you act like this?" he mutters low, voice rough in a way that sends something dangerous curling through my chest.

I should answer but I don’t.

Because the way he’s holding me already steals the thought from my head as his fingers trace my side slowly, deliberately, like he’s mapping every reaction I try to hide.

"You disobey me," he continues, his tone darker now, "and still look at me like I’m the one who should be careful."

My breath catches and that earns a reaction from him....something between frustration and something far more consuming.

He leans in again, his voice dropping near my ear.

"You think you can push me and not deal with the consequences?"

I try to steady myself.

"I didn’t do anything wrong," I manage.

A lie. Or maybe not.

He exhales sharply, like that answer pushes him closer to the edge of

"You test me," he says quietly, "then act surprised when I don’t let it go."

My chest rises too fast. I can’t tell anymore if I’m arguing or if I’m just... staying in the moment because stepping back feels worse.

His thumb brushes my lower like, he’s trying very hard not to lose himself.

"Say something smart," he murmurs.

A challenge, a challenge, a trap.

I should bt I don’t.

Instead, I breathe out, "Maybe you like when I push you."

That does it, the shift in him is immediate.

"Careful," he says, voice lower now, rougher, "because one day you’re going to push too far."

The space between us disappears again as he pulls me closer.

My back meets the wall again, his body close enough that everything else fades out, the world outside this room doesn’t exist anymore. Not the noise, or the night....not anything except him. His voice softens just slightly, though it loses none of its intensity.

"You think I don’t see what you’re doing?".

"And what am I doing?" I ask, quieter now.

His gaze drops to my mouth before lifting again.

"Trying to make me lose control...tryin to tempt me into pinning you to the wall and fucking that tight pussy...that’s it right.?"

A pause....

"And it’s working....ill pin you the fuck down and fuck yoy until I make sure you’ wake up sore the next day."

The words hang between us and for a moment, neither of us moves.

It’s something in between tension and surrender, where neither of us is fully in control anymore, and neither of us is willing to admit it first wraps around us.

Finally, his forehead brushes mine briefly, a grounding gesture or maybe the opposite.

"You’re going to be the end of me," he murmurs.

And when he kisses me again...It isn’t a question, it’s a decision to maybe fuck the living day lights outta me.

His patience snaps in a way I only notice when it’s already too late to react. One second I’m talking.:.::defending myself, probably saying something stubborn I’ll regret later....

"Do you ever stop talking," he says quietly, "or is it just when I decide you should?"

My breath catches when his hands move deliberately and he slides them under the edge of my skirt, his hands slides up between my thighs. And his hands cups my aching pussy through my panties and my eyes roll back behind my head as pleasure rolls through me and a moan slips out from me, he steadylt pushes a finger inside me not rushing, not asking, just doing it like he already knows I won’t stop him.

My entire body locks for half a second.

"Zane...." I start, sharper than I mean to but it comes out breathless, wrong somehow.

His eyes flick up to mine immediately, reading everything I’m trying not to show.

"Say it," he murmurs.

I should push him away but I don’t and that’s the problem. His grip tightens slightly at my waist, steadying me against the wall behind m not letting me escape, mot letting me pretend I’m unaffected.

"You’re doing that thing again," he says, voice low.

"What thing?"

"That thing where you act like you don’t feel anything."

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