He slid my hand down, dragging it over his slacks, right over the heavy, throbbing length of him.
“Nobody makes me a mess but you. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to murder any man who comes within five feet of you. You drive me absolutely insane.”
He buried his face in my hair, his lips finding my neck, alternating between sucking and kissing the sensitive skin. A small, broken sound escaped my throat.
“Say something, Ness. Please,” he begged against my ear.
I couldn’t find the words, so I showed him. I took his hand and put it over my heart, letting him feel the frantic rhythm. Then, never breaking eye contact, I guided his hand down my body. I spread my legs wide, letting the high rise of the dress do the work, and guided his fingers to the damp silk of my underwear.
He sucked in a sharp, jagged breath.
Then we were two fires meeting in a gale. We burned the whole forest down. His lips crashed onto mine, his stubble bruising my skin, his hand finally finding what he’d been searching for. We clawed at each other, trying to get closer than humanly possible, finally admitting that the war was over—and we’d both lost.
thirty-four
ELLIOTT
We didn't walk backto my room; we collided our way there.
I had one hand clamped on the back of her neck and the other around her waist, hauling her through the quietest corridors of the resort. Every few feet, we hit a wall, my mouth crashing into hers, my hands mapping the curves I’d spent a decade trying to forget. The hunger was feral. It wasn't just lust—it was an eviction. I was tearing out every ghost of every womanI’d ever used to replace her, and she was clawing at me like I was the only thing keeping her upright.
I fumbled the key card twice, my hands shaking with an adrenaline I couldn't contain. The second the door clicked shut, I didn't even turn on the lights. The moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows was enough.
I backed her against the door, my weight pinning her there. I hiked her dress up to her hips, my fingers digging into the silk of her skin.
“Ten years, Ness,” I rasped against her throat, my teeth grazing the spot I’d marked earlier. “Ten years of looking for you in everyone else.”
“Shut up,” she breathed, her voice a broken, beautiful wreck. She tangled her hands in my hair and pulled my face back to hers. “Don’t talk. Just… Elliott, please.”
I didn't need to be told twice. I stripped my shirt off, the fabric hitting the floor somewhere near the door, and then I was lifting her. She wrapped those long legs around my waist, her heels digging into my lower back. The friction of her damp underwear against my slacks was a special kind of torture.
I carried her to the bed, but we didn't make it to the pillows. We went down on the edge of the mattress, a tangle of limbs and frantic breathing. I made quick work of her barely there dress, the fabric falling away to reveal what I’d only ever seen in my most self-destructive dreams.
She was perfect. Even with the silver scar on her thigh, even with the shadows of pain in her eyes—she was the only woman I’d ever truly seen.
I went down on my knees between her legs, my hands sliding up to cup her breasts, my thumbs teasing her until she was arching off the bed, her head thrown back. I followed the line of her body with my mouth, tasting the heat of her skin, moving lower until I reached the hem of her underwear.
“Elliott,” she gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I looked up at her, my gaze dark and possessive. “I’m not stopping, Ness. Not tonight. Not ever again.”
I stripped the silk away and finally,finally, I had her. The intimacy was overwhelming—the scent of her, the way she tasted, the soft, rhythmic sounds she made as I used my mouth and fingers to drive her over the edge. I wanted to learn every inch of her. I wanted to memorize the way her muscles winced and then relaxed under my touch.
When she finally shattered, calling my name like a prayer, I didn't give her a second to recover.
I shucked my slacks, the air hitting my skin for a split second before I was back over her. I braced myself on my elbows, hovering over her just like I had at the bar, but this time there was no space left between us.
“Look at me,” I commanded, my voice dropping to a gravelly low.
She opened her eyes, her pupils blown wide, searching mine. There was no "Satan" here. No "boss" or "villain." Just the boy who had loved her at seventeen and the man who was currently burning alive for her at twenty-eight.
I entered her in one slow, agonizingly perfect push.
A choked sob escaped her, and she wrapped herself around me, her body welcoming mine with a familiarity that made my chest ache. Every thrust was a decade of "I’m sorry." Every time I pulled back, it was a decade of "I missed you."
We moved together in the dark, the rhythm steady and desperate, until the world outside the room ceased to exist. There was only the sound of our skin meeting, the catch in her breath, and the way she whispered my name—not like a curse, but like a secret she was finally ready to tell.
When I finally let go, shaking and spent, I collapsed into her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I held her tight, ourhearts beating a frantic, synchronized tattoo against each other’s chests.
