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His lips twisted into a wicked smile as he spun them both around and pressed her against the wall. “You still have the knife, don’t you? Feel free to kill me at any time.”
Then he claimed her mouth like it was his right, and all the emotions battling within her simply shattered, leaving a mess behind. Though her grip on the knife tightened, it was her heart that now risked the stabbing.
Madness—thiswas absolute madness.
Even so, Ber had no intention of stopping unless she ordered him to, preferably at the same time she delivered her blade through his wretched heart. Somewhere between her hesitation and her attempt to stop him by biting his ear, he’d resolved himself to a new death. One in her arms.
Better she kill him like this.
He pinned her to the wall with his hips so he could cup her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as his tongue tangled with hers. Her taste, both tart and sweet, was his favorite feast. She was the boon he’d never deserved, the hope that should have belonged to another. Never him.
Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his waist, the flat of the blade in her hand now resting over his kidney like a threat—or a promise. He didn’t care which, so long as she was pressed against him. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Breath to breath.
She moaned, and Ber couldn’t stop his hands from sweeping down her neck. He traced the line of her collarbones with his fingertips before moving lower to palm her breasts. A little largernow, and—she cried out—apparently more sensitive. Gentling his touch, he lingered for only a moment, savoring the small, helpless sounds of pleasure she made.
Lips still devouring hers, he continued his pilgrimage downward. He trailed his palms over the soft roundness of her belly and around to her slightly wider hips. Fuller and lusher—proof that she’d carried his child within her. The thought nearly eradicated every remaining speck of his control.
Ber tore his lips from hers. “Kill me or fuck me. Holding you again…I don’t think I can stop.”
Tes whimpered, and the gaze she lifted to his held the same shattered cracks as his heart. What would she choose? Her hands eased higher up his back, the knife now against his spine. But she made no attempt to cut. She was as conflicted as he was, it seemed.
Lifting a brow in challenge, he eased his hips back enough to lift her skirt higher, the fingers of his other hand tracing up her inner thigh. Her eyes shot wide as he settled his hand over her wet heat.Mine.He stroked a single finger against her nub. Once. Then smiled wickedly at her strangled cry of surprise.
“Ber,” she gasped. He moved his finger again, and she squirmed. “This is…”
“Foolishness,” he supplied.
He would die to be buried in her once more—literally, if she killed him in the process. Gods, joining with her again would be a better end than he deserved. She was his light, giving him life even when she burned hot enough to destroy, and he could never have enough of her.
Tes’s free hand tangled in his hair. He anticipated the sharp slice of her blade carrying the current sting on his throat into agony, but it didn’t come. Instead, she jerked his head down and took ownership of his lips. He was more than happy to oblige her claiming. He would give her anything of him that she wished.
When she curled her leg around his hip and rubbed against him, he was the one who groaned. His vision flashed white, and his fingers dug into her thigh as he boosted her higher against him. Her hold tightened, the tip of the knife pinching high on his shoulder, but it was an irrelevant scratch. Nothing mattered more than quenching the fire between them.
Trailing her lips along his jaw, Tes wrapped her other leg around his waist. “Don’t be gentle,” she said. “Once more to purge this, but not gentle. Softness between us is a lie, anyway.”
It wasn’t, but before he could protest, she nipped his earlobe again. And he was lost.
Simply lost.
In seconds, he freed his cock and tore away her thin underclothes. Then he plunged home. She cried out, but the way she stiffened made him hesitate to move. Was it too soon since she’d given birth? He should have considered such before obeying her request for roughness.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Stop being kind.”
Could he believe her?
Tes wiggled against him, squeezing her inner muscles, and the thread of his control snapped. Gripping her hips, he lifted her off him, then slammed into her again. This time, her scream was all pleasure. As their lips tangled, she moved with him, meeting his thrusts with little whimpers that cut deeper than the knife at his back.
He was half blind with pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. He pinned her more firmly against the wall—and took. Fire was his blood. His soul.Shewas his blood and soul. And in that moment, as her legs squeezed him closer—as her body welcomed him in—he could almost believe that she felt the same.
Then release flashed through him, and he was too far gone to think at all.
As the shockof pleasure eased, Tes slumped against Ber, her muddled thoughts struggling to find their place in time. He held her close the way he usually would. His palms ran soothing circles over her hips where he’d gripped her a little too tightly, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. It could have been any other post-argument reconciliation.
Except for the knife still in her hand.
What was she doing? What had she done?
Dread chilling the remnants of passion, Tes pushed away—or as far as she could with her hips pinned against the wall by his. A flush burned over her skin. She longed to avoid his gaze and the smugness she would no doubt find there, but it was impossible. Which meant bravado was the only answer.
