I’m the one who insisted upon it, because I knew the risks that would come with giving myself permission, I knew it would trigger the cravings I spent years trying to break—like an addict desperate for his next fix.
But now that I’ve had a taste, I just can’t seem to stop myself.
Aisling drives me crazy—she both infuriates me and awakens a hunger inside me that borders on desperation.
She triggers my most basic instincts every time she challenges me with her sharp tongue and keen mind, every time she tempts me with her soft curves and captivating eyes.
It’s like she was made just for me—just to torture me, because she’s everything I could ever want in a woman but never call my own.
Even now.
Even in the heat of the moment, I know this doesn’t change our reality.
She still hates me, and the Murrays were still complicit in the destruction of my home, my life, my family.
I’m willing to set aside my need for their blood in order to annihilate the monsters responsible for slitting Genevieve’s throat.
That doesn’t mean either of us can forget the carnage that lies between us.
When the war with the Yakuza is over and our thirst for vengeance is sated, Aisling will still be the daughter of my rival—and I’ll still be the man who shunned her for it.
She’ll vanish behind enemy lines once more.
And I should want that.
But right here, right now, buried balls deep inside her, all I can think about is how savagely I want her.
My need is so desperate I can scarcely breathe.
As I keep her trapped against the wall, her long legs wrapped around my waist, my cock spearing her relentlessly, I can’t seem to stop myself. I’ve completely lost control.
“Oh, God, Raf!” Aisling gasps, the sound of my name on her lips like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart.
Her warm thighs are like silk beneath my palms, and as I slide my hands higher, grasping her firm, round ass for better leverage, it makes my cock throb.
Even five years later, Aisling has the most perfect body I’ve ever laid eyes on—the most delectable curves I’ve ever felt.
They draw me in, daring me to claim her. And I do so with a predator’s ferocity, consuming her like a starved beast that’s finally captured its prey.
Aisling’s hips meet the wall behind her with each punishing thrust, and it reminds me of our first night together—the searing kisses and playful back-and-forth that made me throw caution to the wind.
I fucked her against a pane of glass high above the city, the sinful pleasure of it only intensified by the fear in her eyes at being so far above the ground with nothing but a transparent barrier between her and a death fall.
I didn’t know she was a virgin until after—when I learned who she really was.
Hers was the first—and only—maidenhead I’ve ever claimed, and even if I didn’t know why at the time, it was the most intense, erotic sex I’ve ever had.
But now, I’m starting to question whether it was her virginity that made it so mind-blowing.
Because this feels far too similar, far too rhapsodic—the agonizing tightness as her body stretches to accommodate me, the wet warmth that says she wants me just as desperately as I need her, the electric chemistry between us.
It’s so explosive, I can almost taste the singed air on my tongue—or maybe it’s the whiskey.
Whatever it is, it’s sparking vivid images of that first earth-shattering night I took Aisling to bed.
And it awakens a thirst in me that drowns out all the other women I’ve ever had.
Memories of Aisling blend with the present moment, the tumult of emotions and destructive desire making my head spin and my cock throb dangerously inside her.
