Page 3 of Dual

Mads's breath brushes my skin, and every instinct I have screams at me to take control. To show her that I'm still the one holding the power here.

Because she's right—she knows the parts of me I don't show anyone else. Not even Anna. And as much as I want to pretend I'm a changed man… the monster inside me growls at her nearness as she leans in even closer.

"Say you want me," she murmurs, her lips brushing the corner of my mouth as if by accident. "Just once."

I close my eyes for a beat, every muscle in my body coiled tight. She's pushing me to the edge, and I don't know if I'll fall or if I'll take her with me when I do.

And what about Anna? Dear god, I've fought so hard to make things right with her. Can I give in to this tonight and still be able to look her in the eyes in the morning?

"Mads," I say again, my voice rough. Her name is a warning and a plea all at once.

Her hand moves to my jaw, her fingers threading into my hair as she presses closer. "Say it, Domhnall," she whispers, her lips ghosting over mine. "You want me. You've always wanted me. I need to hear it."

And maybe it's the way her voice cracks, just slightly, on the word "need." Or maybe it's the way she's looking at me—bold and vulnerable all at once. But for the first time in a long time, I let myself stop pretending.

"I want you," I say, the words like a confession dragged from the deepest part of me. "You know I do."

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, I see the mask slip entirely. Her eyes soften, her lips parting as if she's about to say something, but instead, she closes the space between us, her mouth crashing into mine.

It's not gentle. It's not sweet. It's raw and consuming, a collision of desperation and hunger that leaves no room for anything else.

The only thing that stops the kiss is her pulling away and dropping down to her knees in front of me, hands sliding down my body as she does.

Her eyes stay on me the entire time until, at the very last moment, she bows her head. "How do you want me, Sir?"

TWO

MADS

"How do I want ya?"he asks, his brogue coming out as he growls the words, low and angry. And then he bends down and lifts me by my waist until I'm standing again. "On your feet and not on your knees at me feet like a feckin' dog."

I stand in front of him but get right in his face. "But you do want me. Say it again. Say it again!" I demand.

Because his words—I want you—are still ringing in my ears. Each syllable is like a shard of glass, cutting through my carefully constructed armor. I meant to bring him here and fuck as dirty as we ever did so he'd remember how he needs his pet. But then everything got twisted around in my head,and I demanded what I really wanted—no, needed—to hear. And he gave it to me.

I want you. For a moment, I can't breathe. He said it. He actually said it.

He wants me, not her.

But the way he's looking at me now—steady, unflinching, like he's trying to see through my skin—threatens to unravel everything.

"Say it again," I whisper, because I need to hear it one more time. A thousand more times. I need to look in his eyes and know he's not just placating me so I'll go home like a good girl and switch back into her.

I reach a hand forward to caress his face, and he snatches my wrist out of the air before I can make contact.

For a moment, neither of us moves, his hand still locked on my wrist, but his thumb brushes against my pulse, deliberate and maddening.

"You heard me." His voice is a rasp.

This is the boy I've always loved, turned into the man who stands before me now. I ache for him more than I ever did before because I'm so close to having him. His touch sets everything inside me on fire.

But he's as elusive as that flickering flame, isn't he? Mine for a moment's heat in the darkness, and then I'm dragged back to the abyss, and he's gone. I'm… gone.

"Then show me," I demand.

I don't care if I'm forcing his hand. He's here in front ofme now, and I'll hold on to him for however long it takes to lasso his soul to mine.

His brow furrows, just slightly, and I feel the shift, the hesitation. Domhnall is always in control. He's supposed to be the one pulling the strings, and now I've gone and tipped the scales.