I tilted my chin up, the ache in my chest tightening. “I can’t.”
He set the glass down and reached for me, his hand curling around the nape of my neck as he pulled me close.
“Then don’t say anything.”
His mouth crashed into mine not gentle, not questioning, but desperate. Punishing. A sanctuary forged from teeth and tongue. He kissed me like he needed to remind us both he was still here, even as I tried to keep him at arm’s length.
I melted.
My fists twisted in his shirt as he backed me against the windowpane. Cold glass bit into my spine, but I arched into him, craving his heat. His hands slid beneath the silk, fingers digging into bare hips as if memorizing me.
“You’re mine, Lyra.” His teeth grazed my throat. “I don’t care what you’re hiding. I don’t care who’s coming. You’re mine.
