"Where?"
"Our room. I want you alone."
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. What I see there—heat, want, love—makes my blood run hot.
"Then take me."
I don't need to be told twice.
Our room is quiet after the chaos of the party.
I lock the door behind us, and suddenly we're alone. Truly alone.
The rest of the world falls away, and there's nothing left but her.
"Come here," I say.
She crosses to me, that red dress moving with her like a second skin. I catch her by the waist, pulling her against me, and her hands slide up my chest to link behind my neck.
"We won," she whispers.
"We did."
"Varro's finished. The club is safe. We're safe." She smiles, and it's radiant. "We actually did it."
"You did it. In that interrogation room, standing up to him—that was all you."
"It was both of us." She rises on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw. "We make a good team."
"The best."
I kiss her again, deeper this time. My hands roam her body, relearning curves I already know by heart.
She arches into me, making soft sounds of pleasure, and the last of my restraint crumbles.
"I need you," I growl against her throat. "Now."
"Then have me."
I spin her around, pressing her against the wall.
She gasps as her palms hit the cool surface, then moans when my body covers hers from behind.
"This okay?" I ask, my lips against her ear.
"More than okay." She pushes back against me, her ass grinding against my hardening cock. "I want you to claim me. To remind me who I belong to."
The words shoot straight to my core.
I've never been possessive before—never felt the need to mark, to claim, to own.
But with her, everything is different. Everything is more.
"You're mine," I say, my hands finding the zipper at the back of her dress. "Say it."
"I'm yours."
The zipper slides down, revealing the smooth expanse of her back.
