65. ICY TOUCH

REMY’S POV. “You love him,” I repeated, my voice dripping with disdain, “yet you come on my fingers.” The scent of her arousal still clung to the air, a sweet, taunting perfume. My gaze dropped to her mouth, that perfect, rosebud mouth that had haunted me for years. “This naughty mouth of yours needs to be taught a lesson.” She smiled. God, it was slow, a venomous little curve that was poison to my heart. A smile for me. Not the polite, socialite mask she wore for everyone else. This was real, and it was a challenge. “What can you do about it?” she breathed, her voice husky. The mockery in her tone was a spark to the gasoline of my obsession. My eyes darted between her defiant gaze and those beautiful, smiling lips. Mine. The word was a drumbeat in my skull. I moved fast, my hand tangling in the silk of her dark hair, tugging until her head tilted back, exposing the pale, delicate column of her throat. My other hand wrapped around her neck, my thumb pressing against the frantic pulse f