It is a microscopic movement, barely a fraction of an inch, but it changes the gravity in the room.
Malcolm’s breath hitches. His focus sharpens, the last remnants of the controlled, clinical CEO vanishing completely. His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in the messy knot of my hair.
He pulls me closer.
My hands come up automatically, pressing flat against his chest to steady myself. I can feel the heavy, rapid thud of his heart beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. He is just as affected by this as I am.
"Audrey," he whispers, his mouth hovering inches from mine. The word sounds like a warning.
"Transparency, Malcolm," I whisper back, throwing his own rule in his face.
He doesn't hesitate.
He lowers his head and kisses me.
It isn't like the kiss at the gala. That was a performance. That was a weapon aimed at his brother. This is entirely different.
His mouth is warm, firm, and completely demanding. He doesn't ask for permission; he just takes it, his lips pressing against mine with a desperate, crushing intensity.
My brain short-circuits.
I open my mouth beneath his, a soft, involuntary sound escaping the back of my throat. Malcolm groans, a low, rough vibration that I feel all the way down to my toes. His other hand wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The hard lines of his body press into the soft fabric of my sweater.
I slide my hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders, anchoring myself to him as the kiss deepens. He tastes like coffee and something dark and intoxicating that is entirely his own.
He walks me backward. I don't even realize we are moving until the back of my thighs hit the edge of the marble island.
Malcolm presses into me, trapping me between the cold stone and the absolute heat of his body. He kisses me like he is trying to consume me, like he is trying to erase every memory I have of anyone else who has ever touched me.
It is terrifying. It is intoxicating.
I pull back slightly, gasping for air. My chest is heaving, my lips swollen and burning from the friction.
Malcolm doesn't let me go far. He rests his forehead against mine, his breathing just as ragged as mine. His hands grip my waist, his fingers digging slightly into the fabric of my sweater.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his voice a harsh, broken rasp. "Tell me you want to keep the door locked, Audrey, and I will step back."
I look into his eyes. They are entirely black in the dim light, filled with a raw, violent need that he is barely keeping in check.
He is giving me the choice. The man who controls everything, the man who buys people and ruins lives, is standing in his own kitchen, waiting for my permission.
I slide my hands from his shoulders up to his neck, my fingers tracing the faint, jagged scar I noticed last night.
"I don't want to lock the door," I whisper.
Malcolm closes his eyes, a heavy, shuddering breath escaping his lungs.
When he opens them again, the hesitation is gone.
He kisses me again, harder this time. He slides his hands under the hem of my oversized sweater, his large, warm palms pressing directly against the bare skin of my waist. I gasp into his mouth, the sudden contact sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
He lifts me.
It happens so fast I barely have time to react. He grips my hips and lifts me onto the edge of the marble island, stepping between my legs. The physical proximity is overwhelming. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, completely abandoning whatever rational thought I had left.
"You are going to ruin me," I murmur against his lips, my hands tangling in his dark hair.
Malcolm pulls back just enough to look at me. His expression is fierce, possessive, and completely devoted.
