“No.”
“You can’t actually want him.” Killian presses the blunt side closer, and I gasp. “He can’t feed that darkness like I can. He can’t succumb to it with you.”
“You left,” I whisper, legs shaking. “You don’t get to be mad that I’ve moved on.”
Have I?
Placing the knife between us, I see the evidence of my arousal on the metal. He laughs darkly. “Moved on? People who move on don’t get fucking wet when their ex’s knife is inside their pussy.”
I open my mouth to refute his claim, but he surges forward, kissing me again. He steals my breath, gulps down my moans, hauling me closer. Blood, mint, and tobacco explode on my tongue, and I chase him, wanting more.
My thighs clench around him, and he growls, pleased.
“You’ve always tried to hide from me,” he says, dragging his lips over my neck. “But you’re a horrible liar. Your pussy misses my cock—admit it. You fucking want me.”
“No,” I moan, and he bites my neck. His teeth clamp down hard, and I know I’ll have another mark from the Reaper come morning.
“One lie,” he whispers into my ear. “You get one lie. That’s it. I won’t let you fucking lie to me again.”
Standing back, he takes the blade to his mark—KAL—and slices the skin. Blood wells up, and my pussy flutters as pleasure surges through me.
Oh.Oh fuck.I’ve missed this.
Swiping one finger over it, he holds it to his mouth, thinks better of it, and paints my lips. Frozen, I watch, absorbing his touch—the roughness of his finger pads, the firmness behind the pressure.
Ripping his head away, he looks up with a dark gleam in his soulless eyes. “I’m not going to be gentle. You don’t get to say no. You’re going to take my cock and fucking remember who owns you. Safe word. Now.”
Inhaling, I say, “Killian?—”
“If you even dare to speak his name, Maeve,” he threatens, “I will go to his house, kill him, and then fuck you on his corpse. You’re mine—neverfuckinghis.”
He unzips his jeans, cock bobbing out, pre-cum glistening on its head. Thick, heavy, and begging, I can’t look away. My mouth waters, the urge to taste him strong.
“Safe word.”
He lifts my panties to the side, swallowing as he looks down at my pussy. It’s like he’s been handed a gift—gaze reverent and hungry all at once. Gripping his forearm, I swallow.
“This doesn’t change anything,” I mutter, holding on to some shred of my control. My rage diminishes under the lust his touchevokes, and the love I hoped to have buried flares, growing hotter the longer he touches me.
“It will,” he vows. “I’m going to make you remember how good it felt to be mine. Remind you why you chose me.”
“If I don’t want to remember?”
The tip of his cock teases me. “Too fucking bad, Princess. You’ve laid claim to my soul as surely as I’ve claimed yours. There is no hiding from fate.”
He slams into me, and I shout, his length too much. A wicked heat burns between us, and I choke on a breath. My heart hammers, and distantly, I know this is a bad idea. But logic never computed with Killian Linwood.
His lips press to my pulse, full seated in me. “You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, voice strained. “He must not be doing a good job.”
My hips shift, silently pleading for more. “Killian…”
“Me,” he mutters. “Only I belong here, Maeve. Only my touch on your skin. My cock between your thighs. You fucking belong to me.”
He stays perfectly still, and I whimper, body weeping with the need for more.
“Safe.Word.”
Fuck. I’m going to break.
