Dedication

My back hit the wall before I could breathe his name.
His mouth was on mine-sharp, desperate, hungry.
His hand fisted in my hair. His voice, a low growl against my lips:
"You wanted to play," he said. "So let's fucking play."
I knew I should stop him. I didn't.
Because when he touches me, I forget what I'm supposed to fear.
And gods help me, I wanted him to ruin me...

Are we enemies by fate, or lovers by choice?