“This is insane,” I mutter against her lips.
I lift her up, pinning her against the cool marble wall beside the Caravaggio, her legs wrapping around my waist with a fierceness that sets my nerves on fire.
The moonlight pours through the skylight, bathing her in a glow that makes her look like some forbidden goddess—her eyes burning, her lips parted, daring me to break every rule I’ve ever set for myself.
Her jeans are rough under my hands, her cashmere sweater soft as I grip her hips, pressing myself against her, the layers of fabric between us a cruel tease. Her sharp inhale, the way it catches in her throat, makes my blood pound so loud I can barely think.
“Fuck, Kasi,” I growl, my voice raw, scraped from somewhere deep. “You drive me insane, you know that?”
Her nails dig into my shoulders through my shirt, hard enough to sting, and she arches into me, her breath hot against my jaw.
“Good,” she whispers, her voice low, taunting, laced with a hunger that mirrors mine. “Show me how much, Alaric.”
I kiss her like I’m drowning, all tongue and teeth, swallowing the soft moan she lets out as she kisses me back, just as fierce. Her hands claw at my shirt, fumbling with the top buttons, but I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand, the cold marble biting into my knuckles.
Her sweater’s ridden up, exposing a strip of skin above her jeans, and I lean down, my lips brushing that warm, soft patch, tasting her, feeling her shiver.
“You think you can just waltz in here,” I murmur against her stomach, my free hand popping the button of her jeans, “call me out, and I’ll stay in control?” I tug the zipper down, just enoughto slide my fingers inside, finding her panties. She’s already drenched, and the feel of her pulls a low, hungry sound from my chest. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”
“Yes,” she gasps, her voice breaking as I tease her through the lace. Slow, deliberate circles that make her hips buck against my hand.
Her eyes flutter, but she keeps them on me, just like I told her to, and the sight of her—pinned, trembling, completely mine—makes my cock throb painfully against my pants.
“Say it,” I demand, my lips grazing her ear, my fingers slipping under the lace to touch her properly, feeling her pulse around me. “Who do you belong to, Kasi?”
“You,” she moans, her head tipping back against the wall, her wrists straining against my grip. “I’m yours, Alaric. Only yours.”
I release her wrists, and her hands are on me instantly, tangling in my hair, pulling me into a kiss that’s all fire and desperation.
I deepen it, my tongue claiming her mouth as my fingers work her, finding that spot that makes her gasp into me, her moans soft but urgent, echoing in the silent gallery. The faint hum of the city outside, the creak of the marble under our weight—it all fades, drowned out by the sound of her.
“Quiet, sweetheart,” I growl against her lips, my voice thick with want. “Unless you want someone to hear you falling apart for me.” I press harder, my thumb circling her clit, and she bites her lip, trying to stifle a whimper, but it slips out anyway, raw and needy.
“Alaric,” she pants, her thighs trembling, her nails digging into my neck. “Please, I need?—”
“Tell me,” I cut her off, nipping at her jaw, my free hand gripping her thigh to keep her steady against the wall. “Tell me exactly what you need, or I’ll make you wait.”
“You,” she says, her voice raw, breaking on the word. “I need you inside me. Now.”
I groan, the sound torn from deep in my chest, and I pull my hand from her jeans, ignoring her soft whine of protest.
“We shouldn’t,” I mutter, my voice rough as I unbuckle my belt. “Not here.” But I’m not stopping either. I shove my pants and boxers down just enough, freeing myself, and her eyes darken, her breath hitching as she takes me in, her gaze hungry.
I hike her higher against the wall, her legs tightening around me, and I push her jeans down just past her hips, enough to give me access.
Her panties get shoved aside, and when I press against her entrance, hot and slick, she moans my name, the sound reverberating in the empty gallery like a sin.
I enter her in one slow, deep thrust, and the way she stretches around me, tight and perfect, makes my vision blur.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pausing to let her adjust, my forehead pressed against hers, our breaths mingling. Her eyes are locked on mine, wide and vulnerable, and for a second, it’s just us—two people caught in a moment that could ruin us both.
Then I move, slow at first, each thrust deep and deliberate, savoring the way she clings to me, her legs trembling, her hands clutching my shoulders like I’m all that’s holding her together.
“Harder,” she whispers, her voice a desperate plea, and I can’t hold back. I pick up the pace, driving into her with a rhythmthat’s raw, possessive, the sound of our bodies muffled by our clothes but loud in my ears—her gasps, my low groans, the faint creak of the wall.
Her nails rake down my back, catching on my shirt, and I grip her ass, angling her just right so I hit that spot that makes her cry out, her voice sharp and unrestrained.
“Shh,” I warn. “Someone will hear.” But I’m grinning, wild and alive, as I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her moans.
