Page 78

My hand tightens, stroke rougher, faster.

And when she finally pulls off, gasping, eyes glazed over, she licks her lips and begs for more.

She turns around. Braces her hands on the glass. Looks over her shoulder while I drag my cock through the mess of her arousal and shove in from behind—one long, hard thrust that makes her cry out my name like it’s the only word she still knows.

I pound her until the glass steams and her legs shake. Until she’s dripping down her thighs and clawing the walls for leverage.

“Take it,” I growl to the empty shower, hips jerking into my fist. “Fucking take all of it.”

The orgasm rips through me—hot, brutal, endless.

I come with a low, broken sound, spilling against the tile while my legs nearly give out. My other hand slams against the wall to keep from dropping to my knees.

But even as the water washes it away, it’s not gone. She’s not gone.

It’s not enough.

Because I don’t just want to fuck her.

I want to break her down until she admits she wants it too.

Wants me.

And…

I think she already does.

Chapter twenty-three

Katarina

Itouchupmylipstickfor the third time when it hits me—I haven’t been this nervous about a date since college.

Which is ridiculous, because this isn’t even a real date. It’s a damn performance. A carefully orchestrated evening designed to generate the right kind of headlines and keep certain other stories buried where they belong.

But my hands are still shaking as I cap the tube.

My dark blue dress clings like it remembers the woman I keep pretending to be—confident, polished, untouchable. But standing here now, I feel more exposed than empowered. Like a single wrong move could undo all the armor I’ve stitched together. The zipper almost didn’t make it up. Not because ofsize, but because halfway through I panicked—like the fabric was tightening around someone I’m not sure I know how to be. Someone bold enough to believe this could go anywhere. Someone foolish enough to want him.

I know there’s no version of this that works—no path forward that doesn’t set fire to something important. His future. My credibility. Griffin.

My phone buzzes against the bathroom counter. On my way. –L

Three words that send my pulse into overdrive. I press my palms against the cool marble, trying to center myself. This is just dinner. Two people playing their parts while cameras lurk in corners and gossip columnists sharpen their knives.

So why does my reflection look like a woman preparing for something that actually matters?

The knock comes at seven sharp. I open the door and forget how to breathe.

Liam stands there in a black button-down that should come with a warning label, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that belong in art museums. Those kaleidoscope eyes sweep over me with an intensity that makes my skin burn.

“Jesus, Kat.” The words rip out of him like they’ve been clawed from his chest. His gaze drags over the dress, lingering on places that make me remember what it feels like to be devoured instead of just admired.

Something wild and hungry flashes in his expression before he reins it back. “You look incredible.”

The careful control in his voice disappoints me more than it should. I want the hunger back. Want him to look at me like I’m something worth consuming instead of something he needs to keep at arm’s length.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” I manage, stepping out and locking my door.