Chapter 65

EMILIA

His response is instant.

One second, I’m kissing him like I’ve been starving for it—because I have—and the next, his hand fists in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp. He swallows the sound with a kiss that’s deeper, rougher, like I’ve just lit a fuse he’s been desperate to keep under control.

Then control shatters.

He walks me back until the counter hits my lower back, and the chill of it is nothing compared to the fire spreading under my skin. His mouth is on mine like he’s claiming something, like he’s making a promise with every breath. Like he’s daring me to pretend I don’t want this as badly as he does.

His other hand grips my waist—firm, possessive, fingers sinking into me like he’s trying to ground himself. There’s no hesitation in his touch. No question. Just a quiet command: You’re not running. Not this time.

“You,” he mutters against my lips, his voice dark and wrecked, “taste like spice.”

I don’t have it in me to