Page 70 of Break Her Heart
We thrived off hating each other.
There was madness in her eyes. The same kind I saw every time I looked in the mirror. Reckless. Wild. Beautiful in its ruin. She didn’t want to be saved—she wanted to burn alongside me.
And maybe, just maybe, I adored her for that.
She was just as twisted. Just as cursed. And she wore it like a crown.
And gods, I needed her.
I kissed her again—wild and desperate—like every moment without her had been oxygen-starved, and I was finally breathing. My hands slid up her sides, fingers skimming the curve of her waist, the line of her ribs, until they tangled in her hair. She moaned into my mouth, her body melting against mine as her hands tugged at my shirt, fumbling with buttons, trying to tear me open.
We didn’t move. We couldn’t. Not when every part of us screamed for more. Her leg hitched up over my hip, dress bunched around her thighs, and I ground against her. I wanted to devour her. Right there on the stairs. Let everyone hear who she belonged to.
She slid her fingers beneath the hem of my shirt and dragged it up over my skin. My name left her lips in a broken breath, and I swallowed it with another kiss, deeper this time, rougher.
Footsteps.
Shit.
Voices—closer now. A pair of guards, maybe, or servants. I didn’t care. I wanted to rip their throats out.
“I told them not to leave,” I growled against her skin.
She blinked up at me, dazed and breathless. Beautiful.
Mine.
I didn’t wait. I swept her into my arms and carried her through the corridor, past paintings and candles and whatever poor soul happened to catch a glimpse. Let them see. Let them whisper.
She was mine tonight.
Even if it killed me.
I didn’t bother setting her down gently. The second the door to our chambers slammed behind us, I had her pinned to it, lips back on hers, our bodies already lost to the fire.
Her fingers clawed at my shirt again, this time more desperate, more demanding, until I tore it off over my head. She made a sound—a low, breathless gasp that only spurred me further. My hands yanked at the back of her dress, finding the fastenings and ripping them apart with a growl. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing inch after inch of flawless skin I’d dreamed about every night.
She didn’t shy away. She pushed into me, dragging her nails down my chest as the dress pooled at her feet. Gods, she was beautiful. Untouchable. And yet completely mine.
I kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, my fangs scraping lightly against her skin, and I felt her shiver. My name left her lips again like a plea, and it almost undid me.
I needed to go slow. I needed to have some control.
But I didn’t.
She made me lose it. Always had.
I lifted her, and her legs wrapped around me instinctively. Our mouths never broke. My mind was screaming restraint, butmy body didn’t listen. Every part of me burned for her. Every inch wanted to claim.
“Tell me to stop,” I whispered against her lips.
She didn’t.
Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging, guiding, her breath warm against my cheek. “Don’t hold back this time.”
I hated how good she looked asking for it. Hair wild, pupils blown wide, body arching toward me like she knew I was going to lose.
That was all it took.
