I laugh. Bitter and breathless. "Because I walked outside?"
"Because I can't watch you disappear again."
Silence. Then, quietly, "Again?"
His grip falters. His eyes drop to my mouth. "I remember everything, Caryn. Every goddamn second."
I try to yank free, panic crashing through me in a hot, chaotic wave. I don't want this—not the way his touch unravels me, not the feelings clawing their way out of the dark. My heart pounds like a war drum, a sick cocktail of fury and arousal thudding in my veins. I can't afford to feel anything for him. Not now. Not ever. But my body betrays me, drawn to his heat even as my mind screams to run.
He doesn't let go. He yanks me flush against him, the force of it knocking the air from my lungs. "I should drag you back over my knee and light up your ass until you scream—and not from pain."
A surge of heat detonates inside me, violent and consuming, stealing my breath. My thighs tense, muscles clenching with a humiliating rush of need I can't suppress. I feel the slick heat building between my legs, my nipples straining against the flannel, betraying every ounce of resistance I've clung to. I hate it. Hate that he can draw this from me without even touching me. Hate that my body has already surrendered when my mind still wants to fight.
His eyes darken, pupils swallowing the green as he takes a slow breath in through his nose, nostrils flaring. A low, primal sound rumbles from his throat, and his voice comes out rougher than before, thick with knowing hunger. "I can smell how badly you want this. You're soaked."
"Go to hell."
"Too late. I'm already there. And you? You're coming with me."
His mouth crashes onto mine without warning, no hesitation, no apology. His tongue forcefully penetrates my lips, clashing with mine, as our mouths explore each other in afeverish dance. The taste of strong coffee clings to his breath, undercut by something uniquely him—earth, musk, heat. It fills my lungs like a brand, searing into memory, as though he's marking me from the inside out. The rough stubble on his face scrapes against the soft skin of my chin, sending shivers down my spine.
The heat between us intensifies, curling low and hot in my belly, a wildfire licking through my veins. My breath hitches as my body arches toward him on instinct—helpless, hungry, betrayed by need. This isn't a kiss born of affection or tenderness; it's a conquest, brutal and claiming. His mouth commands mine, and a helpless, breathless moan escapes, torn from someplace deeper than I want to admit, a place that should be locked tight but isn't anymore.
His hands seize me with the force of a claim—one arm cinched around my waist, the other coiling into my hair at the nape of my neck like a leash. He lifts me as if I weigh nothing, pinning me to the wall with a single, brutal movement. The roughness of the wood bites into my back, cold and unforgiving, but it's nothing compared to the heat erupting between us. His thigh wedges itself between mine, thick and unrelenting, the pressure demanding and indecent. My body betrays me—my hips roll, seeking friction, seeking more. Lust claws through me, shoving shame to the background, turning me into a creature both ravenous and reckless.
He finally breaks the kiss—our eyes lock together. Wild hunger burns within them.
"You break the rules again," he growls, voice dipped in dark intent, "and I'll tie you to the bed, spank you until you're sobbing, and fuck you so hard you forget your own name."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" I retort, hoping that he'll take the tremor in my voice for fear and not what it is... arousal.
He smiles. "No. It's a promise."
My body trembles with rage, lust, and shame intermingling until I can't distinguish one from another. All I know is that I feel alive—more alive than I've felt in years. As he slowly lowers me to the ground, dragging my body against his chest until both feet touch the floor, every nerve ending prickles with anticipation.
I slap him hard across the face. His head snaps to the side.
He laughs—dark and dangerous. "You're going to be hell to tame."
Through gritted teeth, I reply, "Then maybe don't try."
He reaches out, cupping my jaw with one hand, forcing me to look up at him. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm not trying. I'm doing."
The air between us crackles. My breath falters. Outside, the storm may have died, but in here, another one is building. And I know exactly who's holding the match.
6
ZEB
The air inside the cabin is thick enough to taste—like smoke, sweat, and tension that won't break. She's still vibrating from what just passed between us. Hell, I am too. Her slap stung, but it didn’t temper the hunger clawing at my insides—instead, it fanned the flames of something deeper, darker. Not just arousal. Obsession. Possession. The need to take, to own, to claim what had haunted my nights and gnawed at my sanity since the moment I first laid eyes on her years ago.
She was a girl then. Too young. Untouchable. But now? Now she stood in my cabin, half-wild and flushed from defiance, and every cell in my body screamed to mark her as mine. I wanted to taste her fury, her surrender. Wanted to watch her break—and bloom—under my hands. It wasn’t rational, wasn’t clean. But it was real. And it had teeth. If anything, it sharpened it.
Caryn stands across the room, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts, her skin still flushed from adrenaline and fury. Her eyes blaze with the kind of heat that burns rather than warms. She thinks she’s wrested some control, thinks that slap landed a blow deeper than skin. That it created distance between us, drewa line I wouldn’t cross. But all it did was ignite the full force of my fixation—no longer simmering, but white-hot, ravenous.
She didn’t win. She merely summoned the storm.
"You're playing with fire," I say, voice low, raw, like it scraped its way out of my chest.
