The Wrong Woman

Imogen found herself completely lost in Jasper's deep, commanding kiss, unable to pull away.

She didn't know when she had started to give in, but his kiss made her lose control and her body responded in ways she couldn't comprehend.

His dominant presence left her weak. She melted in his arms. Under the intensity of his kiss, she felt light-headed, her mind going blank.

Jasper's lips and tongue were tantalizing, while his strong chest felt warm against her. His body radiated heat.

Imogen's legs grew weak, and before she knew it, he had guided her out of the kitchen.

Their bedroom was upstairs, but fearing she might regain her senses and push him away, Jasper pressed her onto the living room couch instead.

Disoriented by his kisses, Imogen's breathing became erratic, and her body grew uncomfortably warm.

roamed freely, heightening the heated, intimate atmosphere. He reached for the remote

things had escalated. She was utterly lost in the moment. It wasn't until a sharp

kiss, pounding her fists weakly

murmured, his voice

to leave her with no room to escape him. Before, he had avoided touching her, hoping she would fall in love with

overwhelmed by pain, fear, and anger, feeling utterly disrespected. He had claimed her innocence, in her moment of confusion and desire,

him, a hatred born from her frustration and rage. She didn't

her tears away, caressed her face, and whispered apologies, yet remained unyielding in his desire to possess

a shower. With her aching legs, she

brightly lit living room, Jasper sat on the couch after putting on his clothes. He stared

would hate him for this. The realization of it pained him deeply as if a weight