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“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to suddenly decide you care—”

“I don’t want to care!” Kallias steps forward, closing the distance between us. A pained expression crosses his face, his fiery eyes searching mine as our breaths collide in the narrow space between us.

Before I can respond, his hand comes up, his fingers curling around my chin. His thumb presses into my lower lip, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I don’t want to care,” he repeats, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will. “But I do. Ever since I first tasted your poisonous lips, you’ve been in my blood. In my mind. You’ve driven me out of my senses with want for you, and I hate it. I hate that I can’t think straight when you’re near. I hate that I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you, to ruin you, to let you ruin me.”

My heart pounds, my pulse roaring in my ears, and I can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension thrumming like a taut string about to snap.

I can’t tell who moves first, but suddenly, his mouth is on mine, and I’m pulling him in like the answer to every unspoken question I’ve ever had.

His hands burn where they grip me, searing through the fabric of my dress. One hand cups my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down the length of my body. His fingers trace a fiery path, skimming over my neck, my shoulder, the curve of my waist, and lower still, until they grip the back of my thigh with a possessive strength that makes me gasp into his mouth.

In one fluid motion, he spins us, his grip firm as he lifts me and sets me down on the desk.

A shiver runs through me as he unclasps my necklace then pulls away, his gaze tracing a fiery path across my skin.

“So fucking beautiful.” He speaks the words as if they ache.

His mouth slants over mine again, rougher this time—no caution, all claim. His hands grip my hips, grounding me against the desk as if I might vanish if he doesn’t hold tight enough. I kiss him like he’s the air I need to breathe, but also the thing I might want to drown in.

His fingers find the straps of my dress, and he breaks from my mouth only long enough to drag them down my arms, baring my skin to the heated air.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent and guttural all at once.

“You going to keep staring, or—”

He cuts me off with his mouth. But his kisses travel down—my throat, the hollow of my collarbone, lower—each press of his lips a worship laced with punishment. His mouth closes around one nipple, and I moan when he adds teeth.

I reach for the ties at his collar, yanking them apart.

“Poison,” he murmurs as my fingers trace the phoenix medallion still hanging around his neck. “You deserve better than this.”

“You don’t get to decide for me.” I drag him closer, curling my hand around the back of his neck and wrapping my legs around his waist, anchoring him to me. “Now, ruin me, my prince.”

His mouth crashes into mine again, and the rest of our clothes become obstacles—pulled, shoved, discarded in wild movements. His teeth graze my neck at the same moment his fingers brush the slick heat between my thighs. Another moan tumbles from my lips as he strokes and teases me.

“Kal.” His name is both a reprimand and a plea.

A lazy smirk curls his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he reaches past me, sweeping an arm over the desk. Items smash against the floor, but I’m too far gone, too consumed by the man before me as he pushes me down onto the surface and glides his hand up my inner thigh, finding my clit with unerring precision. He starts rubbing tight, deliberate circles.

My back arches, a gasp tearing from my throat as he slides one finger inside me, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through my body. My inner muscles clench around him, and he hums low in his throat.

“Such a perfect response,” he murmurs, each word dripping with satisfaction.

He adds another after a few teasing strokes, stretching me, filling me, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes. His rhythm is maddening—stroking, circling, teasing—building me up with every motion, only to pull back and keep me teetering on the edge.

My hips rock against his hand as heat and pressure coil low in my belly, tighter and tighter, until I’m sure I’ll shatter. But just as the pleasure crests, just as I’m about to fall over the edge into bliss, he slows, his fingers still inside me, his thumb withdrawing from my clit, and the climax that was so close slips agonizingly out of reach.

A frustrated cry escapes me, my hips bucking in a frantic attempt to reclaim the release he’s stolen. My body trembles, every nerve alight with need, but he doesn’t relent.

“Look at you, you beautiful, desperate creature.”

His deep, velvety voice washes over me, winding through my thoughts, until it utterly consumes me. Before I can respond, his fingers begin to move again, stroking deep inside me. His thumb returns to my clit and the fire in my belly reignites, burning hotter and brighter with every motion.

The tension builds faster this time, coils tighter. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my back arching as I chase the pleasure that feels so close, so inevitable.

He stops again.