Page 12

I shut it. Quietly. With finality. The soft snick of the latch falls into place like a verdict, echoing louder than any slam could.

She spins to face me. “I had a reason.”

I close the distance in two steps and slam her against the wall—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to jolt us both into the present.

Her breath catches sharp and high, eyes widening just before her body arches instinctively into mine, like she doesn’t know whether to fight or melt.

I can feel the shock of contact ripple through her, a full-body shiver that rides her spine and transfers straight into me.

“You almost died.”

“I didn’t.”

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “Don’t test me like that again.”

“You’re not in charge of me.”

“No,” I murmur. “But I’m the one who keeps you breathing.”

Then I kiss her.

Hard—like I need to feel her under my skin.

Deep—like I’m drowning in the taste of her.

Dirty—like it’s not enough to just have her mouth, I want to mark her, claim her, leave her breathless and trembling.

My hands fist into her hair as her lips part beneath mine, warm and willing.

She groans into my mouth, and I take it, drink it down like it’s the only thing that can soothe the fire riding me raw.

Her body arches against mine, her hips grinding once, twice, seeking friction, seeking me.

I press her harder into the wall, my thigh wedging between hers, lifting until she gasps.

Her nails rake down my back, sharp, needy.

I kiss her until we’re both shaking, until everything else falls away but the heat, the taste, the primal hunger that crackles between us like lightning begging to strike.

I want her—here, now, pressed between me and this wall until she's writhing from nothing but my touch. Her scent floods my lungs, sweet heat and defiance tangled into something that has my control unraveling one breath at a time. My hands twitch at my sides, craving the feel of her skin, the arch of her spine, the way her breath hitches when I get too close. But I hold the line. Barely. Because if I give in now, there won’t be any going back—and we’re already dancing on a knife’s edge.

It’s not soft or sweet. It’s a raw, blistering claim that brands us both in heat.

She moans into my mouth, the sound trembling like a broken prayer, and fists her hands in my shirt as if holding on is the only thing keeping her grounded.

My thigh slides between hers, the pressure a cruel tease, and her hips rock—once, sharp, and needy.

The friction sets fire to my blood, a thunderous roar pounding through my veins as every nerve demands more.

She bites my lower lip.

I drag my mouth to her throat. “Tell me to stop.”

She doesn’t.

Her head tips back with a shuddering breath, neck arching in surrender, exposing the long, delicate line of her throat.

It's not just an invitation—it's a demand wrapped in silk and fire.

Her breath ghosts against my cheek, her skin flushed, radiating heat that sears into my palms. She presses closer, thighs tightening around my leg, and the hitch in her breath as I drag my lips down the column of her throat is pure fucking sin.

My hands slide under the hem of her tee shirt, and the first brush of her bare skin jolts through me like an electric current.

She’s fire beneath my fingertips—silken heat and muscle that flexes under my touch.

Her stomach trembles as I trace the edge of her ribs, each inch a silent invitation, her breath hitching in response.

The soft curve of her waist molds to my palms, and I want to map every contour, brand her with the memory of my hands.

Her skin is a temptation I didn’t know I was starving for—hot, smooth, and alive in a way that makes restraint feel like a goddamn war I’m losing by the second.

I want her. Fuck, I want her.

But just as I push my thigh harder into her, forcing her legs wider, just as her breath catches in a ragged gasp and her nails sink into my back with delicious desperation—heat explodes between us, wild and primal.

Her hips buck, chasing pressure, her breath coming in soft, shuddering moans that feel like they were meant for my ears alone.

I brace her tighter, feel her melt and tense all at once, her whole body trembling against mine like she’s caught on the edge of something too big to contain.

The air between us turns molten, pulsing with the need to fall further, harder, deeper?—

Ping.

My head snaps toward the security panel as the blaring alarm erupts—sharp, piercing, and unmistakable.

It's not just sound, it’s sensation: steel dragged across nerve endings, a primal rip through the haze of lust that still clings to my skin like smoke.

The heat between us fractures in an instant, and my blood turns cold as the red strobe pulses beside the panel.

My muscles lock, instincts screaming as adrenaline punches through me like a live wire. She stiffens beneath me, her breath catching in a sharp, involuntary gasp, eyes widening in recognition of the sudden change from lust to lethal focus.

“Get upstairs,” I order, already moving.

“But—”

“Now.”

She moves.

I grab my weapon, her scent still clinging to my skin like wildfire and my heart thundering with the imprint of her body.

The memory of her heat, the press of her hips against mine, charges through my veins like lightning.

Jaw tight, blood simmering, I head for the door—every step powered by the primal promise that no one touches what's mine and walks away whole.

Whatever’s coming—whatever’s already on its way—I’ll meet it with every ounce of fury and precision I’ve got. Let them try to take her from me. I’ll make damn sure they regret ever drawing breath.