"Liar," she whispers, "your hands are shaking."
They are. Imperceptible to most, but she notices. The tremble of adrenaline crash, of loss, of something dangerously close to doubt.
"You're still reading me wrong, princess." I press closer, using proximity as intimidation. "This isn't grief. It's restraint."
"Restraint from what?"
"From taking what I want." My hips pin hers against the column. "From finishing what you started in that penthouse. From making you scream my name while your family's spy cools on the floor."
Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn't back down. "Is that what this is? Murder as foreplay? Not my thing, but I’m not judging."
My hand finds her throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of her vulnerability. "This is reality, Aoife. The world you were born into. The legacy you profit from. Don't pretend your father's hands are cleaner than mine."
"I never said they were." Her pulse races beneath my palm. "But I know the difference between a man who kills because hemustand one who kills because heenjoysit."
"And which am I?"
Her lips part slightly. "That's what terrifies you, isn't it? Not knowing the answer yourself."
The observation lands like a punch in the kidney. In retaliation, I crash my mouth against hers, swallowing whatever insightful words might follow. The kiss holds no gentleness—it is all possession and punishment and the desperate need to silence her too-accurate voice.
She responds instantly, her body arching into mine despite the blood on my shirt, despite the corpse mere feet away. Her tongue battles with mine, hands fisting in my ruined shirt.
The darkness of the moment feeds something primal between us. My thigh presses between her legs, finding her heat even through denim. Her hands slide into my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt as she grinds against my leg.
"This is what you want?" I growl against her mouth. "To fuck with death in the room?"
"This is what you need," she counters, biting my lower lip. "To feel anything besides the emptiness."
The truth cuts too deep. I spin her roughly, pressing her front against the column. My hand slides down her back, over the curve of her ass, before gripping her hip with bruising force. My cock hardens against her, straining against my trousers.
"You think you understand me," I murmur against her ear, teeth grazing the sensitive lobe. "You don’t know me."
My hand slides around her waist, up under her shirt to find bare skin. She gasps at the contact, arching back against me. I cup her breast roughly through her bra, feeling her nipple harden against my palm.
"Tell me to stop," I challenge, grinding my erection against her ass. "Tell me this disgusts you."
"I won't lie to save your conscience," she pants, pushing back against me.
I spin her again, lifting her against the column. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively, pulling our bodies flush together. The heat between her thighs presses against my cock, only layers of fabric preventing me from taking her completely.
My mouth descends to her neck, biting hard enough to mark her again. She moans—a sound of pure need that sends fire through my veins. My hand works at the button of her jeans, desperate to feel her wetness, to confirm what her body language already reveals.
I slide my hand inside, past the barrier of black lace to find her soaked and ready. "This is what execution does to you?" I growl, circling her clit with my thumb. "Makes you wet for your enemy?"
"No," she gasps as I slide a finger inside her. "It's whatyoudo to me. God help me."
Her confession breaks something loose inside me. I add a second finger, pumping into her slick heat while my thumb continues its assault on her sensitive clit. Her head falls back against the column, lips parted in pleasure.
"You're going to come for me," I tell her, curling my fingers to hit that spot inside her that makes her shake. "Right here, with my brother's blood still on my hands. Show me how depraved you truly are, princess."
"Fuck you," she moans, but her hips rock against my hand, chasing release.
"Soon," I promise, increasing my pace. "But first, I want to feel you shatter into pieces."
Her pussy clenches around my fingers as she gets close to climax. I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her moans as she comes undone. Her body trembles against me, thighs tightening around my waist as pleasure overtakes her.
When she comes down from her high, I withdraw my hand slowly, bringing my fingers to my mouth. I taste her essence, mixed with blood, never breaking eye contact. "Sweet," I murmur. "Even better than I imagined."