Page 74 of Veil of Dust

Hard.

The fabric stretches. Buttons tear.

Her mouth crashes into mine.

She kisses me like she wants to tear something open. I kiss her back because I need to bleed too.

Her hands shove under my shirt, fingers dragging across my ribs like she’s counting every mistake.

“I hate how much I want this,” she mutters against my lips.

I break the kiss. “Then tell me to stop.”

She pants, eyes glassy from heat, from anger, from everything we haven’t said.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispers.

She shoves me back. I stumble against a cypress trunk. Bark digs into my spine. She follows, pressing into me, hands dragging down my chest like she’s sculpting me out of fury.

I grab her hips, twist her fast, and pin her back against the other tree.

She gasps.

Her eyes flash. “You’re still angry.”

“You lit a war.”

“You lit it first.”

I press my forehead against hers, breathing roughly now. Her skin is hot. Her chest rises fast.

“I came here to find you,” I say. “Not to fight you.”

“Then stop acting like you don’t want both.”

I press my hand against her thigh, slide it up slowly, testing. She doesn’t stop me.

“Is this what you want?” I ask.

She glares. “Ask again and I’ll bite you.”

“You already did.”

She leans up, grabs the back of my neck, and drags my mouth down to hers.

The kiss is harder this time. Less anger, more need.

It builds like that.

Her hips grind once against me, slow.

Her breath catches.

Then she pulls away.

Just a few inches.

Her fingers trace the edge of my belt.

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