She was still standing there looking out at the storm that had rolled in, barefoot, defiant, and breathtaking. The storm outside hadn’t touched her, but I had. And I was about to again.
I stepped forward, slow enough to give her time to run. She didn’t.
“You know what happens if you stay,” I said, voice low, rough with restraint.
Her chin lifted. “I’m not afraid of you.”
That was the problem. She should be.
I reached for her, fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, and she didn’t flinch. Her skin was warm, pulse fluttering beneath my thumb. I leaned in, letting the silence stretch, letting her feel the heat of me before I kissed her—hard, claiming, like I’d been starving and she was the only thing that could feed me.
Her breath hitched as I pulled her closer, one hand sliding down her
