The cold air of the bedroom hits my bare skin, but it is instantly replaced by the heat of his mouth. He kisses a path down the center of my chest, his tongue tracing the line of my sternum. I tangle my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer, completely surrendering the last shred of my control.
Every time I try to pull him up to kiss me, he shifts his weight, keeping me pinned, controlling the pace with maddening, agonizing precision. He knows exactly what he is doing. He is systematically dismantling every defense I have left.
When he finally pushes inside me, the breath leaves my lungs in a sharp, broken cry.
He stops moving. His muscles lock, his jaw tight with the effort of holding himself back. He rests his forehead against mine, his chest heaving.
"Audrey," he whispers, the sound completely raw.
"Don't stop," I beg, my hands sliding down his back to grip his waist. "Please."
He doesn't.
He moves, the slow, deliberate friction erasing every thought in my brain. I wrap my legs around him, anchoring myself to the solid weight of his body. The rhythm is heavy, possessive, a physical extension of the absolute control he exerts over his world, but here, in the dark, he is giving all of it to me.
I lose track of time. The silence of the penthouse is broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing and the soft, desperate noises I can't stop making.
When the edge finally breaks, it hits me like a physical wave. I cry out his name, my nails digging into his shoulders as my body shatters around him.
Malcolm groans, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his own control finally snapping as he follows me over the edge.
He collapses against me, his heavy weight pressing me into the mattress. We lie there in the dark, our chests rising and falling in unison.
I slide my hand up to the back of his neck, my fingers playing idly with the damp ends of his hair. The vintage diamond catches on a strand, a small, physical reminder of the lie that brought us here.
But as Malcolm turns his head, pressing a soft, exhausted kiss to my collarbone, the lie doesn't matter anymore.
The engagement might be fake to the rest of the world.
But the man holding me in the dark is terrifyingly, irreversibly real.
CHAPTER 16
MALCOLM
The morning light filtering through the sheer curtains is gray and muted, the kind of heavy, overcast sky that usually precedes a winter storm in Chicago.
I am lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. I have been awake for two hours.
Audrey is asleep next to me. She is lying on her stomach, her face turned toward me, one arm tucked under the pillow. The heavy duvet has slipped down, exposing the smooth, pale curve of her spine and the faint red mark my teeth left on her shoulder last night.
I look at the mark.
My chest tightens, a sudden, violent surge of possessiveness hitting me so hard it briefly restricts my breathing.
I have spent my entire life maintaining a perimeter. I built Vance Security on the principle that emotional attachments are liabilities. They cloud judgment. They create blind spots. If you care about something, your enemies will find it, and they will use it to break you.
I look at the woman sleeping in my bed.
She is the ultimate liability. She is a civilian wrapped in a corporate war she didn't start, wearing a ring that puts a targetdirectly on her back. I brought her into this. I used her anger as a weapon against my brother, fully intending to keep her at arm's length until the operation was complete.
But as I watch the slow, even rise and fall of her chest, I realize the operation is dead.
There is no contract anymore. There is no consulting fee. There is only the absolute, undeniable certainty that if anyone attempts to take her out of this apartment, I will burn the city down to get her back.
I carefully slide out of bed, moving with practiced silence. I pull on a pair of dark sweatpants and walk out of the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open so I can hear her if she wakes up.
I walk into the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker. The machine hums quietly, the smell of dark roast filling the sterile space.
