The walls of the penthouse trembled with the energy between them.
Cara was breathless, pinned to the floor-to-ceiling window by the same man she swore she’d never touch again. Yet here she was, his mouth trailing fire down her throat, his hands under her silk robe, and the city watching through glass that neither of them cared to hide behind.
“You know,” she gasped, gripping his hair as his teeth grazed her collarbone, “this is the part where I’m supposed to say stop.”
Julian lifted his head slowly. His smile was wicked, dark, soaked in the tension between revenge and desire. “Then say it. And mean it.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she kissed him—hard—like it would erase everything between them. But it didn’t. If anything, it magnified it.
Earlier that evening, she’d received another message
