Page 54 of Shameless Royalty

Malachi

Idon’tknowhowthe fuck I got here.

One minute, I’m fighting, clawing my way out of every interaction with him, and the next, I’m drowning in the heat of his mouth, in the weight of his body pressing against mine.

Ishouldbe fighting. Ishouldbe pushing him away, telling him to fuck off like I always do. But I can’t. Not when his lips are on mine, not when his hands are gripping my waist like he needs me as much as I need him.

It’s wrong. Christ, it’s so fucking wrong. He kidnapped me. He’s the reason I’m here, locked up in this estate like I’m some prized possession. But none of that matters right now, because I can feel him unraveling beneath my hands. And I like it.

Connor shifts suddenly, gripping my hips as he flips us over in one smooth motion. A gasp escapes me as my back hits the mattress, then he’s above me—his green eyes dark and focused, his body pinning mine down just enough to make my head spin.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my fingers gripping his shirt.

He smirks, dipping his head to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of my mouth. “That’s all you’ve got to say,mo stóirín?”

My retort dies on my tongue when his mouth trails lower, skimming along my jaw and throat. I suck in a sharp breath, tilting my head slightly to give him more access before I even realize I’m doing it. His lips curl against my skin like he knows he’s got me—like he’s been waiting for me to stop fighting this.

I want the way he’s looking at me like I’m something he can’t have but refuses to let go of. I want the way his hands are gripping me, like he needs to feel me to remind himself that I’m real.

My hands slide up his arms, gripping his biceps, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. I realize then that he’s holding himself back and letting me set the pace, giving me the chance to stop this before it goes any further.

I fucking don’t.

Instead, I lift my hips slightly, pressing up against him, testing. His breath shudders, and I feel the way his body reacts instantly, how his grip tightens on my waist.

“Careful, Babyface,” he mutters. “You’re playin’ with fire right now and I’m already strugglin’ to hold myself back.”

I smirk, but it falters when he presses down, pinning me completely. His lips find my throat again, teeth scraping lightly against my skin, and I gasp, my fingers digging into his arms.

I don’t recognize this version of myself. The one who isn’t pushing him away. The one who isn’t fighting him at every turn. For the first time in my life, I let myself want, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“You like this, don’t you?” Connor murmurs against my skin, his hands sliding under my shirt, fingers tracing along my ribs. “The way I touch you. The way I see you.”

I won’t ever admit he’s right. So I do the only thing I can—I pull him back down and kiss him again. This time, it’s not cautious or hesitant. It’s hungry.I’mhungry.

For him.

For this.

Connor groans against my mouth and grinds against me. The heat between us is unbearable and suffocating, but I don’t want it to stop. His tongue brushes against mine teasingly and I match him, refusing to be anything less than what he needs right now.

He wants me, and fuck, if I don’t want him just as badly. I feel like I’m coming apart under him, my body thrumming with a heat I can’t control. My fingers clutch at his shirt, desperate, pulling him closer even though there’s nowhere left for him to go.

I’ve spent weeks fighting him, pushing back at every turn, telling myself this was nothing more than captivity, manipulation, a game of power I refused to lose.

But I’m losing now. Or maybe I’m winning. Because I can feel the way his breath is ragged against my skin, and I know I’m the one unraveling him.

“Malachi,” he mutters, his voice a rough growl against my throat. His lips drag along my skin, slow and torturous, his fingers digging into my hips like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Connor,” I gasp, arching up against him. “More.”

He stills, and for a second, there’s nothing but our heavy breathing, the heat between us, thick and suffocating. Then he lifts his head, his green eyes locking onto mine. “What’d you just say?”

I swallow hard, but I don’t back down. My body is already betraying me, my skin burning under his touch, my breath coming too fast. There’s no hiding from him now.

I meet his gaze, my hands still gripping his hair. “I said I want more.”

I see the precise moment the restraint he’s been holding onto shatters like glass. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, and his lips are crashing back down onto mine.

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