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We barely cross the threshold before the door slams shut behind us. Caden’s hand finds the lock with a practiced twist, but his eyes are already on me—wild, dark, hungry.
He doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t need to.
His body tells me everything.
He lifts me before I even breathe his name, my back pressing into the door as his mouth crashes into mine. It’s not gentle—it’s consuming, devouring, his teeth dragging against my lips, his tongue unforgiving.
I claw at his shirt and he lets me destroy it, baring his chest, and I kiss every inch I can reach. He groans, low and deep, pressing his forehead to mine for a heartbeat before spinning and throwing me onto the bed.
He doesn’t ask.
He takes.
But only because I offer it all to him.
My skin is still marked from the training ground—bruised,
