And then, he snaps. In one sharp, unstoppable movement, he lunges. I barely have time to breathe before his handsgrab my face, palms rough and demanding, tilting my head upjust the way he wants it.
A shudder wrecks through me as he breathes me in, his nose brushing against my cheek, his lips so close I can feel the warmth of them hovering just over mine.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t rush.
Just lingers.
His breath is ragged, his whole body wired tight, his grip firm, owning the moment. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming.
I grab at him, pulling him in, my fingers clutching at his shirt, silent permission, silent demand, keep going. Keep going. Kiss me.
And he does. He kisses me.Hard.
A sharp, nearly bruising press of lips that sends a shudder tearing through me.
And then, his mouth opens, and suddenly it’s everywhere. His tongue slides against mine, deep and demanding, his whole body pressing into me, trapping me against him.
The kiss turns desperate, filthy, like we’ve both been fighting this for too long, and now neither of us knows how to stop. His hands tangle in my hair, gripping, tugging, tilting my head back as he devours me.
A sound escapes me, needy, breathless, and it only spurs him on. His palms slide down my back, searing heat through my shirt, dragging lower, until his fingers grip my ass, pulling me flush against him.
I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows it, consumes it, consumes me. His body pins me against the kitchen counter, the sharp edge digging into my lower back, but I don’t care.
All I can feel is him.
All I can taste is him.
It’s too much. No, no, no, it’s not enough.
His lips leave mine only to drag down my throat, biting, sucking, his hands tightening around my hips like he’s about to lift me onto the counter, and I want him to.
Fuck, I want him to.
I want him to undo me right here.
But then, he stops. Pulls back. Ragged breathing. Blown pupils.
I stare up at him, dazed, my lips raw, swollen, hungry. My voice is wrecked, my head spinning. “This is so fucking toxic.”
His hands drop to his sides.
I blink, trying to find my bearing, and push away from him. “Who’s Laura?”
His gaze darkens, his whole body going still. Then, finally he says, “My wife.”
Chapter Nineteen
DAMIAN
Pain explodes across my jaw.
The hit lands before I even see it coming, her fist snapping my head to the side with enough force to make my vision blur for a second.
“You’re married?!” Marlowe growls.
I barely get my head straight before she’s coming at me again, hands shoving, fists swinging, her whole body vibrating with rage.
“Hey—” I grab her wrists, holding tight as she twists against me, trying to break free. Trying to do more damage.
