He pushed. She pulled. They collided.
Their mouths crashed in a kiss that obliterated restraint, patience, and reason. It was unrestrained. Unapologetic. A wild convergence of want and war, of tongues and teeth and tangled breath.
He pressed her hard to the door, every muscle carved in tension, his grip vice-tight at her waist. His other hand fisted in her hair, angling her mouth just so, pulling her closer, deeper, until she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.
He broke away enough to breathe, his voice brushing her lips, rough and raw. “Still think you’re fine?”
She bit his bottom lip in response, deliberate and sharp. “Still think you’re in control?”
The flare in his eyes could have set fire to the world. Not anger, but intensity. A dangerous heat that dared her to challenge him again. His grip tightened, the kiss deepening with a kind of hunger that made her knees threaten betrayal.
“Control?” he rasped at her throat, teeth grazing skin. “Sweetheart, I lost that the second you walked into my storm.”
Her head fell back, fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer. His answering groan wasn’t just a sound; it was surrender, devotion, and defiance wrapped in one breath.
“Someone could see,” she whispered, her voice no longer steady. No longer certain.
“Let them.” His kisses scorched a path down her collarbone, each word a brand. “Let them see who you run to when the dark gets too loud.”
His intensity should’ve sent her retreating.
Instead, she clung harder, anchored by him, but also the weight of his certainty. “This is insane,” she murmured against his lips.
“No.” His voice dropped, soft but lethal. “This is inevitable.”
A broken laugh slipped out, ragged and breathless. “Inevitable? That’s bold. Even for you.”
He pulled back to meet her eyes, his gaze sharpened to a blade. “It’s not bold. It’s truth. You’re the match, Arden. I’ve waited my whole damn life to burn.”
Her fingers traced his jaw, feeling the strain of the fracture line between control and surrender. “We’ll burn it all down.”
His forehead rested against hers, their breath tangled, slow and searing. “Then it all deserves to burn. Maybe I’ve been holding the match for too long.”
Her voice broke around the quiet truth that slipped past her lips.“Your mother will destroy me.”
“She’ll try.” His tone turned to steel, his arms iron around her. “But she forgets. I’m a Blackwell too. And I protect what’s mine.”
The word detonated between them.
Mine.
A promise. A warning. A vow.
“Yours?” she echoed, voice stripped raw, somewhere between challenge and surrender.
His eyes darkened, a dare burning in their depths. “Prove me wrong. Walk away. Go inside.”
She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“Can’t,” she whispered.
His voice was a blade wrapped in silk. “Or won’t?”
Her lips brushed his, the space between them evaporating. “Both.”
He kissed her again,slower this time, but no less consuming. It wasn’t rushed or punishing anymore. It was reverent. Possessive. A claiming not of her body, but of the space between them. Unchallenged. Undeniable.
Before she could even catch her breath, he gathered her into his arms, effortless and commanding, as if she weighed nothing and meant everything. Her legs wrapped around him on instinct. Her arms gripped his shoulders as though the ground beneath her had vanished.
