The air between us is electric, fury, guilt, and grief all tangled together. I don’t know whether I am ecstatic at hearing she loves me or furious at hearing her sayI killed Marcus. My voice drops, low and rough. “I didnotkill Marcus!”
Her eyes flash, tears spilling over as her rage ignites.“I know!”she screams, the sound raw, breaking through the Chapel like a gunshot. “I know it wasn’t you.” She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “It washim. My captain! Fucking Rourke murdered him like he was nothing. And I’ve been living with that, thinking it was you. Hating you while falling for you at the same fucking time, and I hateyoufor it!” The confession detonates between us, but before I can respond, her hand flies. The slap cracks across my jaw, snapping my head sideways. For a second, my world goes red.
My brothers would have paid with blood for a move like that.
But this isher.
My hands grip her face harshly, and I slam my lips to hers. It’s not soft. It’s not calm. It’s punishing, furious, and full of passion. We stumble toward the Chapel table, my hands shift to her hips. The crash of my laptop hitting the floor, papers scattering everywhere, barely registers. All I can think about isher—this woman who’s turned my world inside out.
I shove her back against the table, her ass hitting the edge with a dull thud. She lets out a startled breath that turns into a gasp when I grab her shirt in my fist, hauling her closer. The sound of her badge clinking against my chest is a goddamn sin in itself.
“Sin…” she whispers, her hands flat against my cut.
“Don’t.” My voice comes out rough, dark. “You think I don’t know how wrong this is? I swore I’d never fuck anyone in this Chapel.”
She blinks, chest heaving. “Then why—”
“Because I can’t not,” I snarl, my hand sliding down to her belt. “Because you’ve already made a liar out of me, wildcat.” My mouth crashes onto hers again, and she tastes like heat and defiance. I grab her hip, spin her, and lift her onto the edge of the Chapel table. She gasps as her gun belt slips loose, thudding to the floor. My hands find her waistband, and she hesitates just long enough for our eyes to lock before she lifts her hips in silent surrender.
I drag her pants and panties down in one rough pull, yanking her boots off, then pull her pants and panties off behind them, leaving her police shirt on, half-buttoned, the hem brushing her thighs. The sight of her like this—part cop, part wildcat—punches the air from my lungs.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter, my voice low and reverent, like a prayer I don’t deserve to say.
She smirks, even through her ragged breaths. “You gonna arrest me for corrupting your holy ground, President?”
I huff out something between a growl and a laugh, stepping between her knees. “If this is corruption, I’m guilty as sin.”
My jeans hit the floor, leaving me bare except for my cut and tank. Her hands slide up my chest, under my leather and cotton, her nails scraping my skin until I swear I might lose it. I grab her wrists, lay her back, and pin them above her head against the table’s edge. “Don’t move,” I rasp, my voice shredded. “I want to see you lose control in my Chapel.”
“Then make me,” she fires back, her voice hoarse and shaking.
I line up, the head of my cock brushing against her heat. She jerks, instinctively pressing forward, trying to take me in, but I pull back just enough to make her whimper.
“You want this?” I ask, voice low, dangerous. “You want me to break every rule for you?”
Her throat bobs as she nods.
“You realize how twisted this is?” I rasp. “A cop and an outlaw. InmyChapel.”
She holds my gaze, unflinching. “Then stop.”
I laugh, low and dangerous. “Not a fucking chance.” I grab her hips and pull her flush against me, between my legs. My jeans scrape rough against my ankles, my cut hanging open. She fists the front of my tank and shoves me back until I’m the one hitting the edge of the table. Then she climbs onto it, straddling me, taking control. Her hands go to my cut, fingers curling in the leather.
“You still keeping this place sacred, Pres?” she whispers against my ear, biting my jaw.
“Not tonight.” My hands slide under her shirt, finding the heat of her skin. “Tonight, it’s holy for another reason.”
She grinds down against me, and I swear I see stars. “Christ, Victoria…” I hiss her real name, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises.
“I thought you didn’t fuck in here,” she taunts, breathless, her hips slowly rocking against me.
A low growl reverbs through me, and a shudder runs down my spine as I try to keep my shit together. “I didn’t,” I growl, grabbing her neck and tilting her face up to mine. “I didn’t fuck anyone who mattered.”
Her eyes flare, heat flashing through the anger. I use the distraction to push her back down against the table, switching our positions in a single move. She gasps as her back hits the cool surface, papers crinkling beneath her. I shove my hand on her stomach and push her knees apart. The sight of her, half dressed in her uniform, legs spread, eyes wild, does something dark to me.
“Jesus Christ, look at you,” I mutter, sliding a hand up her inner thigh. “The fucking enemy. And I can’t stay away.”
She grabs my collar, dragging me down until our noses almost touch. “Then don’t,” she says, defiant, breath hot.
