He reaches for me and gently cups my cheek with his palm, but he doesn’t say another word.
Instead, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of my lips, causing my breath to catch in my throat.
He does it again, and when he pulls back, I think that’s it, but then he slams his lips into mine, and I’m lost in the moment.
The kiss is a gentle, intoxicating, and assaulting to all my senses.
My body melts and allows Benedikt to press me up against one of the counters as he takes control of everything.
I expect more anger and talk about what I’ve done, but he’s tired of talking now. He just wants to act and do.
His palms find my hips, promptly lifting me onto the countertop and wedging his body between my thighs.
His hand moves from my cheek to the back of my head, controlling how light and deep he takes the kiss.
I try to hold my ground, but it’s useless. The moment his tongue slides against mine, all reason and resistance are gone.
I grip his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like I need something to hang onto before I fall apart.
He tastes like alcohol and danger, like every bad decision I swore I wouldn’t make again.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathing hard, and my lips are swollen as his eyes drop to my mouth like he’s debating whether to destroy me or devour me.
“You want to know what scares me, Sienna?” I swallow and shake my head. “That I still don’t care what you did. That I’d still choose you over every damn thing I’ve built.”
Before I can reply, he kisses me again — harder this time, desperate and punishing. The kind of kiss that saysyou hurt me, and I’m still choosing you.
His body presses flush against mine, all heat and restraint. His hands drag down my sides, stopping at my thighs. When he spreads them wider, I don’t resist.
“Tell me to stop,” he mumbles against my mouth. “That you don’t want me. That you changed sides was because you feel nothing for me.”
I don’t.
I can’t.
It doesn’t matter how much I try to fight it. Even when he was gone, he was on my mind.
Was he safe? Did they hurt him? Would he be okay?
It was ridiculous when I wanted my life back and him out of it.
My silence earns me another kiss, this one slower and deeper. The kind that builds, burns through the anger, and replaces it with something far more dangerous.
His hand trails down my neck, over my chest, and stops at the edge of my dress. He lifts the hem, inch by inch, until his fingers find the warm skin of my thigh.
His mouth trails down the side of my neck, and I feel every breath and scrape of his teeth. My hands instinctively move to his shoulders, and I clutch him like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go.
His fingers slide higher, hooking in the waistband of my underwear before he yanks them down my legs.
Then, he undoes his pants, takes himself out, and just when I think he’s going to thrust inside me like the time in the kitchen, he just runs the tip of his cock along my entrance.
“I love how you look at me like I’m the monster and the cure,” he says against my skin. “But if you open yourself fully to me, princess… I can be both. I can fight all your demons. And cure all the aches in this tight little body.”
I press my lips together, suppressing a moan because his words are tempting.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, knowing this isn’t the moment, but he hasn’t said what he’ll do with his empire in Miami or about Nikolai.
“With?”
