The ride home was a blur.
Neither of them spoke.
Michael's hand never left Hazel's thigh in the backseat of the sleek black car. His grip was firm, possessive, his thumb tracing lazy, dangerous circles against her skin. Hazel's heart pounded, but not from fear — from the storm gathering between them, thick and undeniable.
The moment the car stopped in front of their penthouse, Michael was out first, opening her door, pulling her roughly to her feet. He didn't say a word as he led her upstairs, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
As soon as the door shut behind them, it happened.
Michael backed her against the wall in one swift movement, his lips crashing onto hers like a man who'd been holding back far too long. Hazel gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed her waist, her hips, like he needed to memorize every inch of her.
"You're reckless," he growled against her mouth.
"I warned you," she breathed, tugging his jacket off his shoulders.
Michael let out a dark, low laugh. "You drive me insane."
She smiled against his lips. "Good."
His hands slid under the slit of her dress, lifting her effortlessly. Hazel's legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her through the penthouse, knocking a vase off a table without a second glance. Neither of them cared.
When they reached the bedroom, he laid her down on the bed with a reverence that made her chest ache.
"You scare me, Hazel," he admitted softly, leaning over her, his thumb brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "You make me weak. And I hate it."
Hazel's throat tightened at the raw honesty in his voice. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands.
"I don't want to be your weakness," she whispered. "I want to be your strength."
Michael closed his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and then he kissed her again — slower this time, deeper. Every touch felt like a promise. Every kiss, a surrender neither of them would ever admit aloud.
Clothes hit the floor one by one, the heat between them igniting until there was nothing left but bare skin and raw need.
Hazel traced the scar along Michael's collarbone, the one she'd always been too afraid to ask about. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her wrist.
"Everything I've built, every war I've fought," he murmured, "none of it matters without you."
Hazel's heart cracked open.
For the first time, this wasn't about business, or revenge, or power.
This was about them.
She pulled him down, whispering against his lips, "Then claim me properly."
Michael's smirk was sinful as he obliged.
And that night, in the shadows of a city built on lies and betrayal, two broken people found something real — and it burned.....