Page 126 of Broken Blades

I looked at him—really looked—and saw something raw in his expression. Hunger, yes. But underneath it, hesitation. Like he was waiting for me to come to my senses. To realize what I was doing. To push him away.

I didn't want to.

Before I could talk myself out of it, before fear could win, before logic could remind me of all the reasons this was dangerous and reckless and completely insane⁠—

I leaned up and kissed him. Soft. Tentative. Nervous.

My lips pressed against his with a gentleness that felt like surrender, like stepping off a cliff without knowing if there would be ground below or just endless falling.

He inhaled sharply, entire body going rigid beneath my touch.

But he didn't kiss back.

Not yet.

His hands came up, gripping my shoulders with devastating gentleness, and he pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. The loss of contact felt like being doused in cold water.

His voice came out rough, strained, barely controlled. "You don't know what you're doing."

My heart slammed so hard I felt it in my throat, behind my eyes, pulsing through every nerve ending.

But I didn't back away. Didn't retreat. Didn't let fear win.

Instead, I cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over the rough stubble there, feeling the tension radiating through him like electricity barely contained beneath his skin.

"I do."

He shook his head once—barely. A tiny movement that looked like it cost him everything. "Sweetheart…" The word came out broken, desperate. "I'm not gentle."

The warning hung between us, heavy with meaning I understood perfectly. This wasn't going to be soft or careful or the kind of romance I'd read about in books. This was him—all the darkness, all the intensity, all the barely restrained hunger he'd been holding back since the moment I walked into his life.

I should have been terrified.

Instead, heat pooled low in my stomach, spreading through my limbs until my entire body hummed with want so fierce it stole my breath.

I met his eyes without flinching. "I don't want gentle."

Something changed in his expression—something primal and possessive and absolutely devastating. The last thread of his restraint snapped so visibly I felt it like a physical thing breaking.

That did it.

That broke him.

His mouth crashed against mine with a hunger that bordered on violence, all the careful control evaporating in an instant. His hands left my shoulders and grabbed my waist, hauling me up from my knees and into his lap in one fluid movement that stole what little breath I had left.

I gasped against his mouth, fingers clutching his hoodie for balance as the world tilted sideways.

And he swallowed the sound like he'd been starving for it.

His mouth crashed against mine like a storm breaking—not soft, not careful, not restrained, but like he'd been starving for weeks and I was the first meal he'd seen.

His hands slid into my hair, fingers tangling through the strands with a desperation that sent electricity racing down my spine. My arms went around his neck without thought, without hesitation, pulling him closer even though there wasn't any space left between us.

I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like oxygen.

My legs wrapped around him instinctively, body fitting against his like we'd done this a thousand times before instead of never.

He kissed me deeper. Harder. His breath ragged and hot against my cheek, chest heaving beneath my palms.