Page 84 of Malicious Claim

I hated how right he was. when he leaned in, I should have shoved him away. Should have slapped him.

Instead, I let him kiss me, and kissed him back.

Fury and passion coiled together, and for a crazed second, I didn't care which of them burned hotter.

Makros didn't kiss as if he was testing boundaries. He kissed as if he'd already surpassed them.

His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back as his lips pushed hard against mine. There was no tenderness to it—just heat, hunger, and rebuke.

I bit down on his lip. Hard.

He growled, a harsh sound from the back of his throat. His hand closed tighter, pulling until I gasped.

"You want to fight me?"

His voice was silk over steel, his breath against my skin. "Fine. But you know how it ends, don't you?" He pushed me aside. My heels met with the edge of the bed, I couldn't regain my balance before he was on top of me, his weight pinning me down.

I shoved against his chest, but he captured my wrists and pinned them over my head in one swift motion.

My breath filled the room in staccato, jagged gasps.

"You were going to kill me a minute ago," he breathed, his body holding me in place. "Now you can't decide if you want to scratch out my eyes or keep on kissing me."

I growled, baring my teeth. "Maybe both."

Makros laughed, deep and content. "That's my girl."

His grip on my wrists tightened as he ground his hips against mine, making me gasp. He swallowed the sound, his eyes burning with triumph.

"You hate me," he whispered, lips brushing my jaw, my throat. "But you keep coming back."

I hated him. I hated him so much. But I arched into him anyway.

Makros left no space for me to think, to breathe, only pressure, heat, and the weight of him on top of me. His hands released my wrists only to wrap around my hips, pinning medown as if he could keep me stuck in this world and make me accept what was already happening between us.

I thrashed beneath him, a useless, desperate struggle at resistance, but he merely laughed, low and knowing.

"You fight me, yet you enjoy how I take possession of your body," he grunted against the skin of my throat, teeth grazing and teasing. "Tell me I am wrong."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to say anything.

His hand slid lower, fingers digging in as he wrenched my thighs apart, sliding one under my undergarments. My breath caught in my chest, body betraying me, and Makros—a predatory soul through and through, felt it instantly.

"Here she is." His voice was a malevolent growl, weighted with satisfaction. "You were never going to kill me, Leila. You can't even control your wetness when I—"

I silenced his growl with my teeth, sinking them hard into the thick muscle of his shoulder. The taste of his skin, the way he hissed my name through clenched teeth, it only made me bite harder. Makros snarled, his body jerking beneath me, but he didn’t push me away. He welcomed the pain. Fed off it.

With a rough grip, he yanked down his zipper, freeing himself. No warning. No teasing. Just the brutal press of his cock slamming into me—thick, unforgiving, stretching me until I gasped against his skin. The fabric of my clothes was still in the way, dragged up just enough to let him in, but not enough to dull the raw drag of him inside me. Every inch a demand. Every thrust was a punishment I craved.

My heart pounded in my brain, obliterating everything except the friction, the heat, the desperate hunger I refused to admit.

I hated him. I wanted him.

He gripped my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes blazed, dark with hunger and something else—something hostile.

"Say my name," he snarled.

I shook my head.

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