IVAN'S POV
She wanted me.
Even after all this time, the pull between us was still there.
Maeve may be an insufferable piece of work, but she was right about one thing—she wasn't the same woman I knew five years ago.
The Maeve I used to know had been sweet. Submissive. A natural pleaser.
This Maeve—the she-wolf locked in a battle of wills with me—was something else entirely.
She was fire and confidence wrapped in soft, dangerous curves. And Goddess help me, it made her even sexier. The best part was that she still wanted me.
Even as we threw barbs at each other, even as I held her flush against me, her body told me everything her mouth refused to say.
The warmth of her skin, the way she trembled, the breathy rise and fall of her chest—I knew that look.
My wolf snarled against the walls of my control, clawing to break free. To claim her. I wondered—what would she do if I kissed her?
Would she scratch, bite, fight? This new Maeve seemed the type.
