The scent of sweat, whiskey, and unresolved tension clung to the air like smoke. Cara wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or the way Michael’s voice had dropped low in her ear, but everything in her body screamed for release. From tension, from fear, from everything she’d buried under the weight of restraint.
“Tell me you haven’t missed this,” he growled, backing her up against the marble counter in his penthouse kitchen.
Her breath hitched as the cold marble met the small of her back—but his heat, oh God, his heat replaced it in an instant. He pressed forward, one arm braced beside her head, his eyes dark with hunger and rage.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, but her fingers were already digging into his shirt, bunching the fabric like she was drowning in him.
“Then leave.” His v
