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His sharp teeth grazed along her neck, sending cold shivers down her spine. Not a single touch from him seemed wasted.

“You have infected me like poison,” he rasped against her skin, and she wanted to drink him in. “You’re in my blood. Clawing at my chest. Drumming in my veins.”

This was wrong, but she had nothing left to fight it.

She wanted his jealousy.

His wrath.

His lust.

She wanted all of his sins and to make them her own, wanted to taste them on his lips just as fiercely as she felt them in her heart.

“Say it.” His voice was rough. “Say you don’t want this and it all ends.”

“Even if it’s a lie?” she asked breathlessly.

“Even if it’s a lie.”

She wasn’t going to be the first to give in, but she’d be damned if she made this stop. She wrapped her right leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His Adam’s apple rose with a swallow, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. She felt him hard against her inner thigh.

Payback was swift. His hand traced the naked skin of her leg, wandering higher and higher until his fingers slipped between her legs, stroking her, and she failed to withhold her moan. Their chests moved against each other, breathing in unison.

Her hands gripped the shelf behind her for support as his fingers slid against her.

“Lie,” he demanded furiously against her neck. Pleadingly. Lips, tongue, and teeth claiming her skin. “Fucking lie.”

But it felt pointless to do so when Mira was certain he could feel her approval even through fabric. “Dawson,” she moaned as the friction of his fingers on her increased.

In response, his lips hit hers again and it wasn’t clear who had lost. Perhaps they both had. She caught his lower lip between her teeth until she tasted blood mixed with spearmint and whiskey. This was what sin tasted like. He didn’t wince, didn’t slow down. He grabbed her by the backs of her thighs and lifted her higher, and she wrapped both legs around his midsection.

Her arms flung around his neck, pulling him closer and closer still.

His right hand crept lower to trace between her legs again. She was so ready for him. Silently, she begged him not to stop. The shelves dug into her back but she didn’t care. He yanked her underwear to the side. Then his fingers brushed over her naked skin, and when he pushed a finger inside her, she broke their kiss and gasped for air.

His lips found her neck again, and it felt like too much and yet not nearly enough. He added another finger, and this time she felt something cold.

A jolt went through her body when she realized what it was. His damned signet ring. But her protest was caught in her throat at the blissful added friction.

He pulled out his fingers and traced her clit with the hard metal of his ring. “Can you feel my initials on you?” His voice dripped with desire. “If I could brand every inch of your body with my name, I would.” The possessiveness in his gaze crushed her. Nearly suffocated her. “You’re mine,” he rasped with authority.

Her heart leapt at the word. Mine. None of this should be happening and yet she needed it more than air.

She had it all wrong.

He wasn’t fire she was dancing with, threatening to burn her.

He was her damnation.

Her affliction.

One finger pushed back inside her while the other, the one with the ring, kept drawing lazy circles on her clit. Dark dimensions help me. She rocked against his touch, chasing the high that built deep in her core.

She felt the thumping rhythm of her pulse in her throat. Dawson’s pupils were shot. Black with desire. Then, the heat in her exploded until she saw stars, convulsing against him.

When she came out of the fog of her orgasm, they looked at each other silently for a moment.