|Serena's POV|
His mouth crashes against mine like punishment and prayer, all heat and teeth and desperation, as if this is the only language we've ever known and we've been biting our tongues too long.
My back hits the mattress and the room tilts, the familiar scent of his skin—spice and sin—clouding my senses, dragging me under faster than the tequila ever could. Gryphon's hands slide up beneath the hem of my shirt—his shirt, technically—finding bare skin and gripping like he needs to memorize every inch of me before the world rips us apart again.
We shouldn't be here.
We swore last time was the last time. Just like the time before that. And the one before that.
And yet...
"Tell me to stop," he growls against my lips, voice hoarse, lips swollen from kissing like he's starving for
