Page 296 of Legacy

Too long.

She’s been gone too fucking long.

Something’s wrong.

I grab the gun from under the pillow, sliding out of bed with silent precision, muscles coiled, senses lit like a fuse as I stalk across the dark marble floors of the sitting room. Every breath is a blade in my lungs.

The balcony door is open. Curtains billow like ghosts in the breeze.

My heart stops.

I raise the weapon, vision sharpening on instinct.

Then I see her.

My wife.

Bare legs kissed silver in the moonlight, my black shirt hanging off her shoulders, swallowing her frame. Both hands gripping the balcony rail, head tilted back to the stars like she’s daring them to fall, hair spilling down her back, a goddess in my fucking shirt, on my fucking balcony, with my name carved into her soul.

She doesn’t hear me.

Doesn’t even flinch when I lower the gun and set it down silently on the marble table. My pulse is still racing, but it’s not fear anymore.

It’s need.

The kind that claws down your spine and leaves you bleeding for her.

The kind that’s tangled with anger because she’s out here where the guards could fucking see her, standing in nothing but my shirt like a goddamn invitation.

The kind that has me moving before I can think, before I can stop myself from taking what’s mine.

I step forward and grab her by the back of the neck, hard enough to make her gasp, jerking her back against my chest. She stiffens for a single, perfect second before she melts into me, like her body knows who owns it.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I rasp against her ear, lips brushing her skin as I breathe her in, letting the scent of her calm the violence in my veins. “Don’t ever leave the bed without telling me.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispers, voice soft, but I can hear it, the need, the defiance, the unspokenI knew you’d come find me.

“You should’ve woken me.”

“I didn’t want to—”

“I don’t give a fuck.” My hand slides from the back of her neck to her throat, squeezing lightly, just enough for her to feel the promise there.The warning. The claim.

She leans into it, her breath hitching, and I feel it; the moment she surrenders.

The moment sheasksfor it.

“You standing out here looking like this,” I rasp, letting my free hand drag down her stomach, sliding lower until I feel the heat between her thighs, “begging for me to take you where anyone could see. You want to be a fucking problem tonight, Tesoro?”

Her fingers curl around the railing, knuckles white. “I want you,” she breathes.“Here.”

That’s it. The match to the gasoline.

I spin her around and slam my mouth over hers, tongue, punishment and possession, her gasp breaking into the kiss as I bite down on her lip hard enough to taste her moan. Her hands fly to my shoulders, nails digging in, grounding herself while I steal every breath she has.

I force her back against the railing, caging her in, kissing her like I want to devour her. Like I will.

“You want the guards to see you like this?” I snarl against her lips. “Want them to see what you look like when I fuck you?”