His hand grips my throat, fingers pressing into my skin, and I can feel the power in his touch. I’m his, completely and utterly, as he looks down at me with those piercing eyes. The room is dim, the air thick with anticipation, and I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement as he leans in, his breath hot on my ear. ‘Who are you going to believe?’ he whispers, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. ‘The mirror, a photograph, or the eyes of the man who thinks you’re the most beautiful woman on earth?’ I know the answer, and it’s in the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing that matters. I’m his, and I love it.