Page 55 of Shattered By Grace

Victoria’s breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as every part of her was overwhelmed by him. The addictive scent of his cologne, warm and dark like smoke and spice; the unyielding press of his chest against her; the storm in his eyes, a darkness that mirrored her own restless hunger.

When his lips finally brushed hers, it wasn’t a kiss. It was a whisper of contact, fleeting but electric, igniting every nerve in her body. Sparks shot through her, leaving her dizzy and aching for more. But just as quickly, he pulled back, his gaze locking onto hers.

“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Say you want this.”

Victoria hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. The fire in her veins wouldn’t be denied. She met his gaze with a steady resolve. “I want this,” she breathed, her voice filled with both need and determination.

That was all he needed. With a growl of satisfaction, Tristan’s lips crashed against hers, and the world around them disappeared. His kiss was fierce, consuming, as if he was pouring all of his pent-up desire and frustration into that single moment. She responded in kind, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him.

His hands roamed her body, claiming her with every touch, and she melted into him, losing herself in the sensation. It was dark, it was intense, and it was everything she had been craving. There was no going back now. She was his, and he was hers, if only for this moment.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other’s. The tension between them had transformed into something deeper, something that neither of them could deny.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” Tristan whispered against her lips, his voice filled with both warning and promise.

“Maybe I do,” Victoria replied, her voice steady, even as her heart raced. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Before Victoria could react, Tristan’s lips captured hers again, the force of his kiss sending a jolt through her body. His hands gripped her waist with an intensity that left no room for escape, pulling her so close she could feel every hard line of his body against hers.

Her mind spun, overwhelmed by the sheer dominance he exuded. This wasn’t about seduction, it was about control. And she couldn’t deny the dark thrill that raced through her veins at the thought of it.

Without breaking the kiss, Tristan pushed her backward, his presence towering over her, as he guided with an unyielding force. The door clicked shut behind them, but the sound barely registered in her mind, drowned out by the pounding of her heart and the heat of his mouth on hers.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t give her a moment to think. His lips left hers only to trail down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he nipped at her throat. The sensation was sharp, sending a shiver of both pleasure and fear through her.

“Tristan,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath, but her voice was shaky, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he seized her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up so that her eyes met his. His gaze was dark, predatory, filled with a dangerous mix of desire and something more primal. “I’m not going to ask you what you want,” he said, his voice a dark whisper against her ear. “Because tonight, I’ve decided. You’re mine, Grace. And I’m going to make sure you understand exactly what that means.”

“Hold tight, love,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp.

Before a thought could form in her head, Tristan’s arms slid under her, gripping her thighs with a possessive strength as he lifted her effortlessly. The kiss didn’t falter. It deepened as he started toward the couch. She broke just enough to gasp against his lips, breathless.

“Bedroom,” she murmured, voice trembling. She pointed behind him. “Over there.”

His smirk was all teeth and want as he adjusted course, steps slow and deliberate, each one crackling with tension.

The door thudded shut behind him with a swift kick, sealing them into their own world. His lips never left hers, stealing her breath as he pressed her back against the edge of the bed. Slowly, he lowered her, the heat of his body radiating against hers, his frame hard and unyielding.

Tristan’s hands slid to the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing her skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers racing down her spine. His lips hovered over hers, a smirk tugging at the corners. “Hope you’re not too attached to this shirt,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, the heat in his tone unmistakable.

With a quick tug, the fabric gave way, buttons scattering like tiny echoes against the floor. Her breath hitched, her pulsequickening as he let the ruined shirt fall. His hands moved with torturous precision, tracing her curves as he peeled away each layer of clothing, his touch equal parts gentle and commanding.

His gaze never left hers, dark and searing, as though memorizing every inch of her. When she stood before him bare, the intensity in his eyes deepened, his expression both reverent and hungry.

“I want to burn every inch of you into my brain,” he murmured, his voice thick with dark desire. Without breaking eye contact, he dropped to his knees before her. The sight of him there, worshiping her body with his eyes and then with his mouth, was almost too much to bear. He started at her feet, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on her skin, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through her. His lips trailed up her legs, kissing, nipping, teasing as he moved higher.

When he reached the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she could barely contain the moan that escaped her lips. But just as the pleasure began to build, he moved again, his mouth hovering just out of reach, teasing her with the promise of more. He was in complete control, and she was at his mercy.

“Tristan,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. But he didn’t relent. If anything, he seemed to savor the way she responded, the way her body trembled beneath his touch. He continued his journey upward, his lips brushing over her hips, her stomach, her ribs, until he finally reached her lips once more.

When he kissed her this time, it was with a fierce desire that matched the storm raging inside her. His hands roamed over her body with an urgency that left her breathless, exploring every curve, every dip, committing her to memory. His touch was possessive, claiming her as his own, and she found herself yielding to him completely, lost in the sensation of being utterly consumed by him.

As he pulled back, he pinned her against the wall once more, his body pressing into hers, making her feel the full weight of his dominance. There was no escape, no room for doubt. She was his, in every way that mattered.

He held her there, his eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, she knew that this was more than just physical. This was a battle for control, a test of wills, and Tristan had every intention of winning.

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