Chapter 7 THE FIRE BETWEEN US

The kiss should have ended.

But it didn't.

Liana didn't move away. She didn't even think to. The moment Dominic's mouth claimed hers again, the rest of the world fell away - time, air, logic. Everything blurred into the taste of him. Warm. Deep. Familiar. Dangerous.

His hands moved slowly, deliberately - one gripping the small of her back, the other tilting her chin as if to remind her she was here, with him, and not going anywhere.

This wasn't desperation.

This was territory they both remembered.

And they were reclaiming it, one heated breath at a time.

When she finally broke the kiss, it was only to gasp for air. Her chest was heaving. Her pulse roared in her ears. She didn't trust herself to speak, not with the way her legs trembled and her heart thudded like it might leap straight into his.

Dominic's gaze devoured her. "Still running?"

Liana swallowed hard. "I should be."

"But you're not."

She looked away, lips still swollen from his. "You know this is a bad idea."

"I've never wanted anything more."

His voice was raw, husky - laced with something feral, like a man on the edge of losing control. She could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes tracked every inch of her face, as if mapping out all the places he wanted to touch next.

Maybe she should stop this.

Maybe she should care more about the secrets, the revenge, the fact that they were standing on a minefield built from years of pain.

But right now?

She wanted to feel.

"Say it again," he whispered, stepping closer.

"Say what?"

"That you're not running."

Liana looked up at him, her voice barely above a breath. "I'm not running."

That was all it took.

Dominic moved fast - his hands catching her thighs as he lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist without thinking. He walked them toward the wall, pinning her there gently but firmly, as if he'd fantasized about this exact moment for years.

She moaned into his neck, nails digging into his shoulders.

God, he felt so good. Strong. Solid. Real.

His mouth trailed along her jaw, down her throat, lingering on the pulse that thundered just beneath her skin.

"You don't know what you do to me," he murmured. "Every time you look at me like you hate me, and I still want to ruin you."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. Her body arched toward him instinctively, begging for more.

"Then do it," she whispered.

Dominic groaned - a sound from deep in his chest that sent heat flooding between her thighs.

Still holding her, he carried her toward the massive bed in the center of the penthouse suite. He laid her down gently, then pulled back just long enough to look at her, as if committing this moment to memory.

"You're sure?" he asked, voice tight.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

With a curse under his breath, he shed the last layers of clothing between them, and she did the same. No more barriers. No more pretenses.

Just skin. Heat. History.

When he finally pressed his body over hers, Liana gasped at the contact. Every nerve in her body felt alive, awake - like they'd been waiting for this exact pressure, this exact rhythm, this exact man.

He kissed her again, slower this time, taking his time to explore. His hands slid along her waist, her hips, then back up to her breasts, where he lingered with a reverence that made her thighs clamp together.

"You're trembling," he whispered.

"I haven't-" she paused, "-in a long time."

"Then let me remind you."

He did. With every stroke, every kiss, every bite of his teeth against her collarbone, he reminded her that she was still a woman. Still wanted. Still worshipped.

And when he finally slid into her, she forgot how to breathe.

The stretch. The heat. The feel of him filling her completely - it was too much and not enough all at once. She wrapped herself around him, nails scraping down his back as he began to move, slow and deliberate.

Their rhythm built gradually, like a storm rolling in. Every thrust pulled a moan from her throat, every grind of his hips pushed her closer to the edge.

They moved like they'd never stopped. Like all the lost years had been nothing but a pause in a symphony that had always been meant to play.

He whispered things into her skin - filthy, reverent, honest. And she gave him every sound he wanted to hear. Her gasps. Her moans. His name.

God, his name.

She was close - so close - when he suddenly slowed down, pulling her up with him so she straddled his lap. Now, he was beneath her, watching her from hooded eyes as she slid down onto him again.

"Ride me," he growled.

She did.

With her hands braced on his chest and her head thrown back, she rocked against him, setting a pace that made her see stars. He gripped her hips, guiding her, thrusting up to meet her halfway.

Their bodies slapped together, the sound obscene, wet, desperate.

And when her release finally hit - white-hot, shattering - she cried out his name like it was salvation.

Dominic wasn't far behind. With a guttural moan, he came inside her, holding her so tight she thought he might break. They stayed tangled for a while, sweat-slicked and breathless, skin on skin, no words needed.

Eventually, she collapsed beside him, curling into his chest.

Neither spoke for a long moment. The silence this time wasn't heavy. It was... soft. Safe.

"I forgot what this felt like," she whispered.

His fingers stroked lazily through her hair. "What?"

"Being wanted without pain."

He turned to face her fully. "That's not what I want for you, Liana. I want to protect you. Always."

She bit her lip. "Even if I might still hurt you?"

He smiled wryly. "You already have. And I've hurt you too."

She nodded. "Yeah."

"But maybe... this time, we figure it out."

"I don't need perfect," she murmured, eyes fluttering shut. "Just real."

Dominic pressed a kiss to her temple. "Then that's what I'll give you."

They drifted into a light, warm sleep.

But outside the bedroom, Dominic's laptop screen flickered to life.

A new email pinged. The subject line read:

"If you don't want this going public... meet me. Alone."

– D. Maddox.