And then he turns, marching toward me with unrelenting force. I flinch, spine pressing to the cold brick, preparing for the worst.
“Can I get that back?” I whisper, nodding to the rolling pin lodged in Adam’s throat.
“Shut the fuck up, Nell.”
It isn’t a warning, it’s a growl, torn from the rawest part of him, vibrating through the air. The words hit so hard they splinter the silence, and for once, my mouth goes slack. No sarcasm. No spitfire comeback. Just heart-thumping stillness.
He closes the distance in two strides, the heat rolling off him like a furnace, stripping off the long black gloves that are covered in blood and discarding them somewhere without an inch of care where they land.
The wall catches me hard, unforgivingly scraping at my back as his body crowds mine, leaving no room to breathe, no space to think.
His eyes—ice cold yet blazing with fire—lock onto mine, wild with something unhinged and electric. Rage, hunger, something bordering on ruin. I barely manage a breath.
Then he’s on me.
His mouth crashes into mine with violent precision, no hesitation, no mercy. It’s tongue, fire, and fury. He tastes like consequence and something darker—like a man teetering on the edge of something dangerous and choosing to fall.
I gasp, and it’s all the invitation he needs. His tongue slams into mine, claiming, devouring, and I’m swept under—no time to brace, no time to question. Just the roar in my ears and the quake in my knees.
His hand fists in my hair. The other pins my hip to the wall. I don’t know if I want to fight him or fuse into himcompletely. All I know is this—there’s no softness here. Only heat, violence, and the kind of kiss that leaves bruises in its wake.
The kiss doesn’t end—it implodes.
My thoughts scatter like ash in a wildfire, logic ripped to shreds by the sheer heat of him. Every part of my body is on high alert, nerves firing all at once, screaming and sparking like exposed wires. I taste adrenaline. I feel like I’m being devoured from the inside out.
He doesn’t pull back. He consumes. Like he’s trying to erase every word Adam ever spoke—every name I’ve been called, every scar I buried under skin and silence.
I try to breathe, but I don’t want to. I want to fall headfirst into this spiral—into him—and let the wreckage become my religion.
His hand threads deeper into my hair, tugging just enough to steal a gasp, just enough to remind me I’m alive and on fire. I moan into his mouth—half surrender, half defiance. It makes him growl, deep and raw, a sound that feels like it started in me and found its way into him.
My hands move on their own, fists clenching the back of his shirt like I could anchor myself here—but the ground’s already gone. There’s no wall behind me, no past, no future. Just this; the man who tastes like danger and moves like vengeance.
And God help me, I want more.
I’m not kissing him back, I’m clinging, desperate to keep from slipping through the cracks he’s splitting wide open. Myskin burns. My bones don’t feel like they belong to me. Every breath is stolen before it even forms.
He groans into my mouth—an unfiltered sound, like he hates how much he wants this, how much he wants me. There’s no finesse. No gentleness. He kisses like he’s furious we exist in the same world and can’t stay away from each other anyway.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, and it’s not sweet. It’s a warning.
I whimper, and the sound breaks something in him. His hand slides down, anchoring at my thigh, hoisting it up without asking. The brick digs into my spine, grounding me as everything else unravels. I think I’ve lost all sense of time. Of air. Of boundaries.
My name leaves him in a whisper, like it slipped out without his permission. Like it’s a sin he can’t help repeating. And in the haze between kisses and gasps, I realise; this isn’t just a kiss. This is war paint. A confession. A claim.
It breaks in an instant. Not a word. Not a plea. Just the sound of me yielding—body first, then breath, then everything else. I don’t remember letting go. I only know that I have.
My hands claw at his back like they’ve given up pretending they don’t need him. I don’t hold him—Ianchorto him, like if I let go, I’ll fall straight through the floor.
He groans against my lips—deeper this time, like something in him unravels when I stop pulling away. Like he was begging for this without ever saying a word.
His hands are everywhere now, charting my body like it’s familiar and forbidden all at once. Possessive. Reverent.Wild. His mouth drags down my jaw, and my head tips back, unthinking, just offering everything I have.
I don’t care that the wall is scraping my spine. I don’t care that Adam is somewhere on the floor choking on everything he ever did to me. All I care about is this burn—this reckless, glorious undoing.
Because right here, in this moment, with the air thick and his breath skating across my throat… I want him to take every broken piece of me and claim it like he means to keep it.
Adam’s gurgles fade—swallowed by the sound of my own breathless moans and Cameron’s ragged panting. He moves over me like he’s done it a hundred times in dreams he’ll never admit to. Every touch is possessive.
