He slams his mouth over mine, shoving deeper and harder into me until we’re both moaning and moving with each other.
His lids lower. He wants something.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I am, Kaz. All yours.” His to hold and his to break.
He thrusts harder. The headboard slams against the wall.
I grip his shoulders. A thin veil of sweat covers my body. My skin is hot. My lungs burn.
He leans over me, his chest pressing against mine as his pelvis grinds into me.
“That’s my girl. My good fucking girl,” he growls in my ear. “Come for me, Sienna. Come hard for me.”
Like a match to a gasoline can, my body explodes. I scream his name, repeating it over and over as though the cadence will somehow grant me eternal life.
He bucks harder, fucking me through every wave of my orgasm until he climaxes. He comes with the roar of a lion, arching his back as he drives into me one last time. Spilling himself inside me.
After the storm has passed, he leans down, kisses me—a soft, gentle kiss. It’s filled with promise I hadn’t hoped to consider days ago.
He lifts himself from me and rolls to his back, pulling me to cuddle up beside him. My hand splays over his chest where his heart beats as hard as my own.
My body aches from head to toe. My lungs burn from my frantic breathing, but I’m so damn content I can’t be bothered to think about it.
Ours may not be match made from love, but we have this. Passion. And a lot can be built on that.
A knock on the door disturbs the softness of the moment.
“What do you want?” Kaz yells maneuvering the blankets so they cover us.
There’s a long pause.
“You left your phone in your office. You have a call.” One of the men shout from the other side.
I pull the blanket up to my chest, covering myself as Kaz sits up.
“Fuck,” he grumbles. “Whoever it is, I’ll call them back later.”
“Kaz.” There’s a long pause. “It’s Elana.”
Elana’s already on the screen when I sit down in my office chair.
“Hey.” She smiles brilliantly. Like she hasn’t been hiding away for the past three months, completely ignoring us.
“Elana.” My irritation at my little sister is no match for the relief that floods me at seeing her.
Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head. No tired bags under her eyes or signs of obvious stress.
She’s safe.
“It’s me,” she says. “I know it’s been a little while.”
“A little while,” I bark, then catch myself. That’s an Alexander reaction, to go straight to yelling. “Where are you?”
She laughs. “Like you don’t know?”
Of course I know. We’ve known since she settled down in one place.
