His gaze flicks to my mouth. “I’ll punish you for it.”
Heat slams through me.
“And you will love every second,” he adds, grip tightening at my waist like he knows, like he feels it too. That pull. That need.
Something reckless twists through me.
“Maybe you should kill me.” I brush my lips over his before nipping his lower one, just hard enough to draw a groan. “It’s the only way I’ll get out of this marriage anyway.”
His laugh is low, rough, as he grabs a handful of my ass and pulls me against him.
“That would be too easy.” His mouth ghosts over mine. “This…” His gaze dips to where our bodies meet. “…is a lot more fun.”
Yes. That’s right. That’s all we are. This passion, this intensity, is nothing more than skin and flesh.
My throat tightens from the tornado of emotions crashing against one another—rage, fear, desire, and confusion, all twisted into one impossible knot.
His thumb drags over my lower lip. Testing. Teasing. And neither of us moves or wants to run. Not from this. My back is against the wall before I can convince myself to stop, and my body—that traitorous, aching thing—is responding to him in ways my mind can’t control.
“Say it again.” He wraps his fingers around my throat.
“Say what?” I breathe, my nipples pebbling beneath my bra.
“That I should kill you.”
My chin lifts, a half-smile pulling at my lips. “Kill me and get it over with.”
His growl is low and full of something feral. “I don’t want to do that.”
Then his lips find mine, fierce and desperate, like he’s trying to erase the space between hate and want. And I kiss him back like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
His fingers thread into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head, to deepen the claim. The kiss tears through every wall I’ve built, and I melt into it, gasping when he grinds against me, his arousal thick and unmistakable through his slacks. His other hand fumbles at the buttons of my blouse, roughly popping themopen until the cool air hits my skin, my bra exposed under his gaze.
“I hate you,” I whisper against his lips.
Hate the way you undo me. Hate how much I want you.
“Good.” His growl vibrates against my skin as he drags his mouth down to my throat and bites. “Hate me harder.”
He yanks the zipper of my skirt, tugging it down before his belt clatters to the floor. I don’t remember how we got here, but it’s the only thing I want. He lifts my legs around his waist, shifts my panties aside, and drives into me in one hard, greedy thrust.
I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, the stretch of him dizzying, overwhelming, perfect.
“Blyat, I’ve missed you,” he mutters against my neck, and I have to choke back the stupid rush of pleasure that comes with hearing it.
Maybe he only means the sex, but the rough scrape of the words cuts deep, curling around something inside me that refuses to believe he didn’t mean more than that. A raw and needy moan slips from my throat, my nails raking up his back when he circles his hips. His muscles tense beneath my fingers, the only warning before he drives into me harder, deeper, his rhythm brutal and unrelenting.
“Oh God,” I cry out, clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world gone sideways. “Don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. He only picks up the pace, pulling back to peer into my eyes. Forcing me to see him. To feel all of it. I drown in the storm of him, every thrust unraveling me until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t be anything but his.
The walls shake with the force of his body, with the sound of us. Anyone in this house knows exactly what’s happening, and I don’t care.
His hand finds the space between us, fingers circling my clit, and I detonate. A strangled cry tears from my throat as Icome undone, biting down on his shoulder just to keep from screaming. He follows with a guttural curse, ramming deep like he’s trying to brand this moment into both of us.
Then it’s over.
When he lowers me, the silence, the distance…it all returns with a vengeance. Without a word, he steps back, refastens his clothes, and hands me my skirt with barely a glance, raking a hand through his hair like I’m nothing.
