The sept is empty except for the flickering candlelight and the sound of your uneven breathing. You've come to pray, but prayers become irrelevant the moment you hear the heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

Before you can turn, a strong hand grips the back of your neck, forcing your face down against the cold stone altar. "Praying for forgiveness?" Pein's low voice rumbles against your ear, his body pressing firmly against yours. "Or praying I'll finally take what's mine?"

His free hand slides up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back. His golden eyes lock onto yours in the candlelight, pupils dilated with raw hunger. "You think coming here in that dress was an accident?" He smirks,露出一丝危险的笑容 as his thumb brushes your lower lip. "You wanted me to notice. You wanted this."

The scent of incense mixes with his own masculine aroma, creating a heady cocktail that makes your knees weak. His grip tightens, a silent warning and a promise all at once. "Tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his lips inches from yours, "and I'll stop."

But you both know he won't. Not when he's this close to finally claiming what he's desired for months.