Page 29 of Abandoned By My Alpha Husband

That was all I needed.

Our mouths crashed together again. No hesitation this time. She arched into me, body responding before words could. Her hands were everywhere—my neck, my back, pulling at my shirt. I captured her wrists, pinned them briefly, felt her pulse hammering beneath my thumb.

She twisted, broke free, and shoved at my chest. I let her push me onto my back. She followed, straddling me, hair falling around us like a curtain. The defiance in her eyes hadn't faded—if anything, it burned brighter.

"You don't get to be in control," she breathed.

I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, I surged up, flipped us again. The bed creaked. Her gasp turned into something else—not fear, not anger. Want.

"Neither do you," I said against her skin.

She bit my shoulder. Hard. I groaned. She smiled—sharp, dangerous.

We moved together, a collision of frustration and need. Every touch was too much and not enough. Her fingers traced scars I'd forgotten about. My mouth found the hollow of her throat. She tasted like salt and honey and something I couldn't name but recognized in my bones.

The lamp cast everything in gold. Time blurred. Minutes, hours—I couldn't tell. Just heat and breath and the sound of fabric sliding across skin. The headboard hit the wall. Neither of us cared.

She whispered my name. Not like a plea—like a command.

I answered by pressing closer, eliminating any space between us. Her legs wrapped around my waist. My hand slid up her thigh, fingers tracing patterns that made her shiver. She retaliated by dragging her nails down my back.

"Elena," I said again, voice breaking.

"Don't stop," she said back.

So I didn't.

We fell into rhythm, instinct taking over. The anger that started this didn't disappear—it transformed into something rawer, deeper. Five years of restraint unraveled. Every kiss, every touch released tension I didn't know I'd been holding.

She pulled me down, kissed me like she was drowning and I was air. I kissed back like she was the only solid thing in a world spinning too fast.

The mattress shifted. Blankets twisted. Her dress—what was left of it—pooled somewhere on the floor with my shirt. Skin against skin, no barriers left.

Her eyes stayed open, locked on mine. Challenging me even now. I met that challenge, matched it, and pushed back. She didn't break. Didn't yield. Just held on tighter, demanded more.

And I gave it.

The light dimmed. Dawn crept closer. We didn't notice.

Finally—finally—exhaustion hit. We collapsed together, tangled in sheets and each other. Her head rested on my chest. My arm wrapped around her waist. Both of us breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.

Neither of us spoke.

I woke when dawn was still gray. She was asleep, hair spread across the pillow, curled on her side. The blanket only reached her shoulder. Her skin was covered in marks—evidence of what we'd done. Clothes scattered everywhere. Her dress torn beyond repair.

I covered my face. What the hell had I done?

I stood, dressed quietly, fumbling with buttons. Shame, regret, awkwardness—all of it churned together. I didn't even finish fastening my shirt before I left. The only mercy was the empty hallway. I hurried back to the study, shut the door, and sank into the chair.

A knock. I straightened and composed my face. "Come in."

Marcus. His eyes went straight to my disheveled hair. He paused. Then his gaze dropped to my neck—where Elena had bitten. I coughed and pulled my collar up. "What is it?"

My voice came out harsh, defensive.

Marcus looked away. He seemed like he wanted to laugh but held it back and went serious instead. "Your Majesty, the investigation into Luna is complete."

I opened the file and scanned it.