Page 29 of Watch Me Burn

AARON

S ecurity finally wraps up after midnight, leaving behind nothing but silence and the low hum of the upgraded system. The penthouse feels colder than usual. Emptier despite Caterina’s presence echoing through every room like a demon I can’t exorcise.

This day needs to end.

Tristan’s words linger like smoke: “Watch your back. Both of you.”

Both. As if we’ve become something. An us.

I punch in the alarm code and turn to find Caterina.

Leaning against the kitchen entryway, backlit by the blue cast of city light.

Changed into something new. Something not meant for sleeping.

Black silk shorts that barely qualify as clothing.

A camisole that clings too well to curves I don’t want to notice.

Her hair hangs damp and loose, curling against her collarbone. It’s too much.

Too effortless.

My chest tightens. Anger. That’s all it is.

“Are you going to sleep?” Her voice is low, laced with teasing, lip caught between her teeth like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

She smiles at me like we didn’t just find a fucking threat on our doorstep. Maybe the outfit isn’t intentional, but that smile? That’s a weapon.

Like staring down the barrel of a gun—beautiful, and utterly lethal.

“In a bit.”

I brush past her, refusing to bite.

Another sweep of the apartment should keep me away from her. It’s pointless and unnecessary since I don’t need to check the locks again. But I do need space from her.

Anything to purge the image of her from my mind.

Her scent clings to the air like smoke—embedded in the walls, the sheets, the space behind my eyes.

Impossible to scrub out.

And worst of all, she’s enjoying it.

When I finally reach my room, Cat is already in bed. My bed. She’s facing the window, the silver of moonlight catching on her olive skin.

I take my time in the bathroom. Not because I need to—but because I can’t walk in there and see her without bracing first.

When I finally slide beneath the covers, I keep to the edge.

Still, the bed feels too small.

“You can relax,” she says into the dark, voice soft, playful. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Hard to sleep when someone’s staring.” She shifts behind me. I don’t look. Don’t breathe.

“You’re imagining things.”

“I know what it feels like when someone watches me.”

“Old habits die hard, then,” I say sharply. “You spent months watching me.”

She laughs. “Touché. But this was different.”

I close my eyes. “Don’t. Turn around.”

She doesn’t.

“Tell me, Aaron…” her voice drops. “What were you thinking when you opened that bathroom door? That first moment. Before the rage.”

I stay silent.

“Three seconds,” she murmurs. “That’s how long it took you to remember you were angry. But before that? You wanted me.”

“You’re delusional.”

But even I don’t believe my own voice.

“And you’re a liar.”

That does it.

I turn to face her now, a mistake immediately apparent as I register our proximity in the dim light. “I despise you. Everything you represent.”

She doesn’t even flinch. “Hatred and desire aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. You can want someone you hate, sometimes that makes the wanting deeper, more intense.”

“Is that what you tell yourself? That stalking me was justifiable because you wanted me?”

“The was purely professional. But the way you look at me? That’s not curiosity.”

“Don’t confuse curiosity with weakness,” I grit out.

Her eyes glint. “Don’t confuse desire with control.”

“Stop twisting this into something it’s not.”

“What are you so afraid of?” she murmurs. “That I see more of you than you want me to?”

“You don’t know me.”

Her gaze dips to my mouth, then back up, lazy and unhurried.

“You could’ve slept in one of your guest rooms. There’s no reason for you to be in this bed. Even if someone broke in.”

Don’t engage. Don’t give into this. It’s exactly what she wants.

Caterina leans in, lips brushing the air between us. “And we both know you want to fuck me.”

My control snaps.

I grab a fistful of her hair and drag her into a brutal kiss, devouring her mouth before I can think better of it. She gasps, startled but it quickly melts into a moan, her lips opening for me like she’s been waiting for it.

The heat is instant. All-consuming. Careless.

“Is this what you wanted?” I bite her lower lip hard enough to make her flinch. “To push me until I break?”

She laughs, breathless, clawing at my chest. Her nails rake through my shirt, down to my ribs.

“You’re easier to manipulate when you’re angry.”

“Go to hell,” I snarl, biting down harder.

Then she moves.

Climbing over me in a fluid, predatory motion, straddling my hips. My cock hardens beneath her, betraying me. Caterina smirks, rolls her hips again, slower this time, deliberately cruel.

“Think you’ve got dominance?” she murmurs. “You’re adorable.”

“You think you’re not affected?” she whispers, leaning down until her lips brush my ear. “Then stop me.”

I don’t.

Her hand slides between us and grips me hard. Enough to sting. Heat floods my veins, fury tangled with desire so sharp it nearly blinds me.

Then something flashes.

Cold steel kisses my throat.

A dagger—glinting silver in the moonlight—held steady in her hand, her eyes burning with challenge.

“I always have dominance, Aaron,” she breathes. “Never forget that.”

I should end it right here. Should shove her off, wrench the blade from her hand. But I don’t. My fingers dig into her thigh instead, dragging her closer, daring her to draw blood.

“Do it. Make your threats real.”

Her breath catches but she doesn’t move.

And then I see it. The smallest tremble in her grip.

Her hesitation is all the opening I need.

I quickly flip her beneath me. The dagger slips from her grasp, landing harmlessly on the sheets between us. Her eyes flash with surprise, quickly replaced by something darker, something raw and primal. I hate the way that makes me feel.

Like surrendering wouldn’t feel like losing at all.

“My turn.”

I rip her top open, fabric tearing clean down the middle, baring her completely to me. Caterina’s breath hitches sharply, nipples tightening into hard peaks.

“You think you own me? You think your games are enough to make me bend?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to.

I reach between her legs, finding her soaked and ready for me. One finger sinks deep inside, then another. Her hips jerk, breath hitching. Her thighs fall open like instinct, her body already betraying her.

She’s so fucking perfect it makes my teeth ache.

But this isn’t about taking her. Not yet.

This is about dismantling her.

Owning every part of her control and holding it hostage until she begs.

Until she breaks.

“Who’s slipping now?” I murmur against her ear, my fingers curling deep with precision. Slow, punishing strokes that keep her trembling on the edge. She bucks beneath me, chasing friction, grinding into my hand like she’s already forgotten who’s in charge.

I don’t let her.

I hold her there, suspended in that razor-thin space between pleasure and agony. Her breath breaks in shallow bursts, the sound of her slick heat filling the room. It’s obscene and addictive. But I won’t give her the release her body’s begging for. Not yet.

Because this is war and right now, I’m winning.

“You don’t control anything, Cat. Not here. Not tonight.”

“Please.” The word falls out of her, raw and guttural. Her pride hates it. Her body doesn’t care. “Aaron?—”

“Tell me how bad it hurts.” My voice drops as I press down on her stomach, caressing her g-spot. “Tell me how much you need me.”

“I want you,” she pants, yanking at my shirt, desperate for something solid to cling to.

“More.”

Her eyes burn. “I want you so fucking badly I can’t think straight.”

That’s better.

I trail my mouth down her ribs, to her stomach, before pulling my fingers out and burying my face in between her legs.

Her whole body jolts.

She tastes almost sweet. Of course she would.

I want to stay here forever, buried in her, breathing nothing but her. But if I let go, I won’t fall. I’ll sink. And I’m not sure I’ll ever want to surface.

Groaning against her, I devour Caterina, savoring every gasp, every curse that slips past her lips. Her thighs tighten around my head. She’s getting close.

That’s when I pull back.

“No,” she whines, hips chasing my mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

My voice slices through the dark, cold and final. “You come when I say.”

“You’re a bastard,” she rasps.

Caterina watches me with hooded eyes as I slowly raise my hand to my mouth, deliberately tasting her off my fingers this time. The flavor of her floods my senses. She inhales sharply, sending a rush of dark satisfaction through me.

I grip her jaw roughly with my other hand, forcing her mouth open. She doesn’t resist.

I spit into her mouth—her taste, my power.

“Swallow.”

For a beat, rebellion flashes in her eyes. My grip tightens in warning. And then, she obeys. Her throat works visibly, swallowing everything I give her, eyes locked on mine like a challenge.

The control is electric. All-consuming.

“Good girl.” My thumb brushes across her swollen lips, still parted from the aftermath.

Then I roll away, back stiff with restraint, cock aching with unspent need.

“Goodnight, Caterina.”

She yanks away from me and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The power is mine.

It will always be mine.

Whatever dark thing she’s stirring inside me, she’ll never fucking own it.

I lie there, heart pounding, desire still crawling under my skin—and I know two things for sure:

I hate Caterina Mortelle.

And I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.