He presses me against the building, the rough brick scraping lightly at my back through my clothes. My hips tilt forward. I grind into him. He grinds back.
It’s so simple. There’s nothing eloquent or complicated about it.
Just him and me.
Just our bodies.
And the damn pieces clicking into place between us.
Talon’s hands are everywhere. Under my top, sliding up my spine, spreading heat in greedy sweeps. His mouth trails down my jaw; teeth graze, then his lips find the spot beneath my ear and suck.
The sound that escapes me is embarrassing. It’s beyond needy. His grin brushes my skin.
“Remember this moment, Little Grim.” His voice is husky, almost smug, but his hips never stop rolling against me. The hard line of him drags right where I ache. “This can be your life now.”
I shouldn’t believe in romance anymore. Not after everything. I shouldn’t let myself get caught up in the moment, forsaking reason for the simple notion of how it feels.
Shaky legs. Racing heart. Sweating palms.
I shouldn’t crave this sensation beyond measure, shouldn’t let it consume me from the inside out.
But his offer shines like a lighthouse on a cold, dark sea.
And I reach for it.
My hands slide under his shirt, fingertips skimming the hard planes of his stomach, tracing the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. His skin is warm, alive, thrumming with the same tension coiling low in my belly.
Talon exhales hard against my neck like I’m knocking something loose in him.
“Fuck… you feel—” His words break off when I shift my hips, pressing harder into him.
I’m unspooling. Breaking apart. Craving this.
He kisses me again, rougher this time, tongues clashing in a messy, hungry rhythm. His hand finds the waistband of my sweatpants and slides inside, gripping my bare ass.
“I’ll kill for you, Skye,” he breathes. “Tell me that’s what it takes, and I’ll do it.”
He’s not thinking clearly. There’s too much desperation in his voice. Too much devotion. It can’t be real. It’s the haze. It has to be.
Because if I let myself believe it’s not, I’ll burn.
But fuck, hearing it…
“I’ll cut up that bastard who killed you,” he goes on, voice ragged, dripping lust and fury. “I’ll make him suffer first. He’ll beg for death.”
His fingers dig into the curve of my ass, yanking me tighter against the thick press of him. Sudden. Rough. It rips a gasp from me, and his mouth is right there to swallow it.
“I’ll tear the world apart, Little Grim, until there’s nothing left but us.”
My fingers fist in his shirt, nails scraping his skin as he grinds me harder against the wall. His hips jerk forward, almost clumsy now, off rhythm.
Talon. Talon is losing the rhythm.
The guy who had me all wrapped around his finger the night we spent together.
Is this… could he mean it?
His hand between my legs shifts, the heel of his palm pressing through the thin fabric. One more move, and his fingers find my clit. And I’m at his mercy.
