She inhaled sharply and that had me locking my gaze on hers.
“Walk away, Mallory,” I said. It wasn’t a request. It was a last attempt at discipline—mine, not hers.
She didn’t move.
The defiance in her eyes wasn’t loud. It was quieter than that. Colder. Like she’d already weighed the consequences and decided she could live with them.
“No,” she said.
The word burned low in my gut.
That was it.
I didn’t give her time to rethink it. I didn’t givemyselftime. My hand came up fast, locking around the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as I hauled her into me. Not gentle or cruel, just demanding.
Her breath hitched—and then her mouth was already open, waiting.
The kiss wasn’t tender. It was a collision. A claim. All teeth and pressure and frustration burned down to instinct. She didn’t melt. She met me. Pushed back just as hard, hands gripping my jacket like she meant to tear me apart or hold me there forever—maybe both.
I tasted anger. Fear. Want.
Every boundary I’d drawn in my head went up in smoke.
I broke the kiss only long enough to press my forehead to hers, breathing hard, my grip still firm at her neck—holding her there, forcing her to stay present.
“This,” I said roughly, “is a mistake.”
Her lips were swollen. Her eyes bright, unrepentant. “Then stop.”
I didn’t.
I kissed her again, slower this time but no less dangerous—deliberate, punishing, like I was daring her to regret it. She made a sound low in her throat that went straight through me.
I didn’t loosen my grip.
If anything, I tightened it—just enough to remind her that this wasn’t hypothetical, that this wasn’t two people circling a feeling. This was contact. Consequence.
She didn’t flinch.
That was the problem.
I pulled back a fraction, not to let her go, but to look at her—really look. Her pupils were blown wide, breath unsteady, pulse jumping hard beneath my thumb where it rested at her jaw. She was shaken. Wired. Alive in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
“You think this is winning,” I said quietly. “You think pushing me here proves something.”
Her mouth curved—not soft, not amused. Sharp. “No,” she said. “I think it just proves you want me and I want you.”
That did it. The restraint I’d been white-knuckling shattered.
I dragged my mouth back to hers, not chasing pleasure now, but control—claiming space, claiming breath, claiming the moment before she could turn it into something else. My other hand slid to her waist, fingers biting in through fabric, anchoring her exactly where I wanted her.
She didn’t submit.
She leaned into it, jaw set, kiss turning fierce and unyielding, like she was daring me to break or back down. Heat flared—raw, dangerous—and for one violent second I wanted to give in completely. To stop pretending this was anything but mutual destruction.
“Are we doing this?” I demanded as I dragged myself back just enough to lock our gazes. The moment was charged,dangerous, and irrevocable. I didn’t get up this morning deciding we would have sex, but I wasn’t going to sleep tonight until we had.
She didn’t retreat. She lifted her chin instead, lips still swollen, eyes locked on mine.
