Page 30 of Bloody Knuckles

"I'm full of surprises."

"Dangerous ones." He offers me the glass. "You seem determined to test my patience."

I accept the whiskey, needing its warmth. "And you seem determined to underestimate me."

"Not anymore." His attention slides over me, assessing. "What you did today was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. I haven't decided which."

"Why not both?" I take a slow sip, the alcohol burning pleasantly. "Brave and stupid often share a bedroom."

His mouth quirks slightly. "Like Gallaghers and Donovan’s?"

The question hangs between us, charged with everything unspoken. The warehouse column. His fingers inside me. The way I came apart for my enemy.

"That was circumstance," I say, not believing my own words. "Adrenaline. Shock."

"Liar." He steps closer, invading my space. "That was inevitable from the moment I took you."

The air thickens between us. My body remembers his touch, craves more despite every rational objection.

"This is nothing," I insist. "The information about Liam?—"

"Can wait." His hand captures my chin. "Right now, I need to decide how to punish you for today's little adventure."

Heat pools low in my belly at his words. "Punish me? I'm not yours to punish. You didn’t die and become God, nor are you my father, or teacher. You are nothing."

"No?" His thumb traces my lower lip. "Then why does your pulse quicken when I touch you? Why does your body betray you? Why can I smell your arousal from here?"

My cheeks burn at his crude words. More infuriating because it's so accurate.

"That's biology," I counter. "Not consent."

"Then say no." His mouth hovers near mine. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

The word refuses to form on my tongue. Instead, I surge forward, claiming his mouth with mine. The glass drops from my hand, shattering on the floor as I wrap my arms around his neck.

Cormac responds instantly, lifting me against him. My legs encircle his waist as he walks us backward until my spine meets the wall. His mouth devours mine—all possession and punishment and raw need.

"Do you have any idea," he growls against my lips, "what seeing you in danger did to me?"

I bite his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "Do you have any idea what watching you kill your brother did to me?"

His hips grind against mine, the hard length of him pressing against my core through thin fabric. "It made you wet," he accuses. "Admit it."

"Not the killing," I gasp as his teeth find my neck. "The cost. The way it hurt you."

He freezes momentarily, then attacks with renewed fervor. His hands tear at my dress, ripping the delicate fabric down the middle to expose black lace beneath.

"I should lock you in a cell," he says, palming my breast roughly. "Keep you chained where you can't endanger yourself."

"Try it," I challenge, fumbling with his shirt buttons. "I'll escape that too."

He tears the shirt open, buttons scattering across hardwood. The movement exposes his scarred torso—a map of violence endured. I trace one long mark across his ribs, feeling him shudder under my touch.

"You drive me insane," he confesses, unhooking my bra with one move. "No one has ever defied me like you do."

My breasts spill free, immediately captured by his hungry mouth. He sucks one nipple hard, teeth grazing sensitive flesh until I cry out. My back arches involuntarily, pressing more of my flesh into his mouth. He lavishes attention on the hardened peak, alternating between gentle suction and sharp bites that send jolts of electricity straight to my core.

His hand finds my other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between skilled fingers until both peaks are equally sensitive and throbbing. The dual sensation makes me whimper, my body already building toward release.

---