Page 45 of Over the Edge

Flynn’s eyes met mine—steady, unreadable. “I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. Just looked away.

Two silenced shots.

When I turned back, Flynn was already crossing the space between us. His hand curled around my arm. “You good?” he asked, voice low, rough with adrenaline.

No. But also yes. Because every nerve in my body was lit. Because I could still feel his hands on me, his mouth on me. Because I’d just killed a man and let him kill two more, and all I wanted right now was him.

I nodded.

His eyes searched mine for a beat too long before his fingers laced through mine. “Let’s move.”

CHAPTER14

LYRIC

We madeour way back to my hotel on foot, winding through alleys and side streets to avoid being seen. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. The silence between us wasn’t tense anymore—it was electric. Tight. Charged. Every step buzzed with everything we weren’t saying.

In the elevator, we stood on opposite sides, not touching. The air between us crackled with tension, the kind that made my skin prickle and my pussy clench. It wasn’t just adrenaline; it was something raw and primal.

Flynn’s gaze burned into me, stripping me bare without laying a finger on me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and fucking alive.

By the time we reached the suite, my keycard trembled in my hand. The lock clicked. The door swung open.

The second it shut behind us, I lunged for him. We collided, hard, and the impact sent something crashing to the floor as his mouth crashed into mine. Not gentle, nothing sweet about it. Just hunger—raw, desperate hunger that had been building all night.

His hands were everywhere—sliding up my sides, tangling in my hair, gripping my ass to yank me closer.

I matched his intensity, raking my nails down his back, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw a growl from deep in his throat. I shoved his jacket off his shoulders, and he let it fall, never breaking contact

He pressed me back against the door, his body flush against mine, and I moaned into his mouth as I felt the hard length of his cock pressing against my stomach. His hands roamed my body, rough and demanding, stripping off my shirt, sliding up to cup my tits, kneading the soft flesh through my bra. I arched into him, my nails digging into his shoulders, my legs instinctively spreading to give him better access.

“Fuck,” he groaned against my lips, voice wrecked. He slid his hands down to grip my thighs, lifting me effortlessly until my legs wrapped around his waist. I could feel him pressed against my soaked panties, and I rocked my hips against him, desperate for friction.

“God, Flynn,” I gasped, my head falling back against the door as he kissed down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, nipping, sucking, marking me like I was his. His breath was hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Tell me you want this.”

I rolled my hips against him again, grinding my slick sex against the hard bulge of his cock, and sank my teeth into his shoulder.

“I want this,” I gasped.

His control snapped.

He let me slide down his body and tore off his jacket and shirt in one fluid motion, revealing a torso carved from granite.

He was so beautiful. My hands roamed over him, mapping every inch of his body—the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, the sweat-slicked skin that burned under my touch.

Flynn moved like he fucking owned me, all rough hands and raw power. He yanked my shirt over my head, his eyes going dark as he tossed it aside. His fingers traced the curve of my tits, his touch sending electric shocks straight to my core.

“Christ, Lyric,” he breathed, his voice wrecked and ragged. The way he said my name—a half-growl, half-moan—made my entire body tighten with need.

He shoved me back against the wall, pinning me with one knee between my legs, and I whimpered as he rocked against me, as he mouthed down the slope of my shoulder, setting my skin on fire. My bra fell away with a flick of his fingers, freeing my breasts to his mouth and hands. The sensation was electric—his hot tongue flicking over one nipple, his thumb rubbing rough circles over the other—and I bucked against him, my nails digging into his skin.

I was so wet, so gone for him, every touch like a lightning strike that left me gasping and desperate for more.

I was lost in him, drowning in the scent, the feel, the fury of Flynn.

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