I wanted to break the kiss, to pull away. I wanted to stop, to make it end, but I couldn’t. Every time I started to draw away, he would lick into my mouth just so and make this deep growling sound in the back of his throat. And I would be sucked in again.

Oh yeah. Marcus Black was definitely in charge.

And look, judge me all you want, but the moment he started moving his hips, I couldn’t help but match his strokes. The zing of electricity that pounded through my body like a live wire was just too good. So damn good. And before I knew it, I was moving my body just how I needed, and suddenly, I had use of my hands. I should have been using them to hit him, push him off, get away. But instead, I slid my fingers into his hair and tugged. Bringing him closer, practically crowding me and shutting out all the light so that all I could see was him. He had taken over my world both physically and mentally.

It was him who finally dragged his lips away from mine. “Lyra. I need you.”

This was where I should have shaken my head and told him to stop, where I should have said this is a bad idea. I don’t want this. I don’t love you. You’re a liar and I hate you.

Instead, all I did was whimper and tighten my hold on the strands of his hair, pulling him down to me.

Because I was a glutton for punishment. Even though I knew the truth was that he hadn’t wanted me, that I was a mark, I still wanted him badly enough to make this choice that was terrible for me. I was basically hooked on him. I had been jonesing and buzzing and needing him since that moment when we met on opposite sides, me with a gun in my hand. I’d wanted him then. I’d shot him, hoping that he would survive. Which told me I didn’t know what was good for me because I was a moron.

And because I loved him.

Marcus rocked his hips over mine, hitting that spot just right, and I arched my back, trying to get closer, moaning as he nipped at my jaw.

“Fuck, you smell good.”

“Hurry.”

“Yeah. Next time we’ll go slow.”

Even his choice words of ‘next time we’ll go slow’ should have set off alarm bells in my head. But in the heat of the moment, all I could think was, Now, dear God, please now, make me feel good. Make me feel like I am on top of the world. Make me feel amazing. Because I wanted this. I needed more. And only Marcus Black could get me there.

Stop overthinking and just enjoy this.

It was impossible to shut my brain off. I didn’t know how. But somehow, with Marcus’s hands all over me, sliding, gripping, caressing, pinching… It got much easier.

When his hand slid up my rib cage and his thumb slipped over my nipple, my breath caught, and I bit out a curse. “Marcus. I need—”

His voice was more a rumbling vibration against my skin than actual words. “I know what you need.”

That was all we said before we were tugging at each other’s clothes. I could hear the tearing of fabric and feel the hard planks of wood beneath my shoulder blades promising me bruises later. But I didn’t care. Because holy fuck, Marcus was alive, and my brain only cared about how quickly I could get him inside me.

Later there would be different words. Worried words, shameful words, but I didn’t care right now because what was happening was louder, stronger, a cacophony in my brain. Marcus was licking at my skin with a sure tongue, teasing along the edges and the underside of my breasts. And I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even drag my eyes open because all I wanted was to let the sensations wrap around me and make me forget that he was the enemy, that I had been forced to do my job and shoot him. I wanted to forget that I could have lost this feeling. And suddenly, the relief of him being alive, the pain of the betrayal, and the driving need for him all hit a fever pitch, and I didn’t know what to grab next. One second, I was tearing at his shirt, and the next, my hands were at his hair, tugging him down to me, desperate to have his lips back on mine.