Alex straightened the moment I got closer, like something in him had snapped into place. His lips parted slightly, his eyes darkening as they dragged over me. Slow and deliberate, consuming every inch of what I had let Crystal turn me into.
My hands fidgeted in front of me, fingers twisting together, suddenly unsure. Suddenly exposed. I didn't understand it. I had faced men with guns, stared death in the eye without flinching. But standing here, under the intensity of his gaze, I felt stripped bare in a way that had nothing to do with clothing.
"I'm sorry," I breathed, the words fragile, unfamiliar on my tongue. "I didn't mean—"
He didn't even let me finish. His hand came up to my jaw, firm and unyielding, then crashing his mouth onto mine.
It wasn't gentle. It was fury. Possession.
And I melted into it anyway.
My hands slid up to his wrists, not to stop him, but to hold him there, deepening the kiss as he tipped my head back. My spine arched instinctively when his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him like he was afraid of losing the space between us again.
"I shouldn't have walked out like that," he murmured against my lips, his breath uneven as he rested his forehead against mine. "I didn't know what came over me."
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Isla." He breathed my name like it anchored him, his hands firm around my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "The reason I shot him before you could...it wasn't because I thought you'd hesitate. And it sure as hell wasn't because I don't think you're capable."
My throat tightened.
"It was because I know exactly what you're capable of when someone betrays you," he continued, voice lower now. "I've seen it."
"Then why?" I asked, barely audible.
His jaw flexed. "Because once you pull that trigger, it doesn't leave you. You can tell yourself it's justice. You can tell yourself he deserved it. But it stays. The weight of it. The look in their eyes." His thumb brushed my cheek, not soft, but deliberate. "And I refuse to let him be the reason you carry that. He's not worth it."
"Alex..."
"I've already done worse," he said quietly. "My hands are already stained. One more body doesn't change anything for me." His gaze hardened, but there was something raw underneath it. "But it would change something in you. And I won't let him take that too."
I swallowed. "You don't get to decide what I can handle."
"I'm not deciding what you can handle," he replied. "I'm choosing what you don't have to."
The words landed heavier than any apology.
"I know what revenge feels like," he added, voice rougher now. "It feels righteous in the moment. Powerful. But afterward? It's empty. And the guilt creeps in when you least expect it. I'd rather carry that for you than watch you pretend it doesn't affect you."
Silence stretched between us.
"That fuckhead doesn't deserve your guilt. He may have betrayed you, but he doesn't get to live long enough to become a memory that haunts you." Alex finished, eyes dark and unyielding. "Save it for someone else who matter, my love."
And for the first time since the gunshot, I understood. It hadn't been about control. It had been about sacrifice. He was willing to be the monster I need, in order for me to extract my revenge without losing my soul in the process.
So I said nothing, thought nothing. Instead, I crashed my lips back onto his.
The kiss changed immediately. Still hungry and urgent, but no longer angry. It was like something desperate had taken over us, the way his hands tightened around me. And before I realized what he was doing, I felt myself being lifted off my feet.
I gasped softly against his mouth, my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He carried me easily, like I weighed nothing, our mouths never quite parting. My fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently as I pressed kisses along his jaw, down to his neck, teeth grazing the skin beneath his ear. I could feel the rumble of his breath, the way his grip flexed at my waist.
He moved us toward the stairs without breaking rhythm, every step controlled, like he was restraining himself for me. The memory of the bathroom flashed through my mind right then. The way he had walked out, leaving me there breathless and aching, humiliated.
Still, I had been hungry for him ever since.
"Please don't do that again," I murmured against his lips, softer now, vulnerable in a way I rarely allowed myself to be.
"Do what?" he asked, his voice low as he kicked his office door shut behind us.
"Don't leave me hanging like that," I said, my forehead brushing his.
Something in his expression shifted at that. Less teasing. More understanding.
He lowered me carefully onto the sofa, his hand lingering at my waist even after my feet touched the cushions. Then he leaned down, pressing a slower, deliberate kiss to my mouth.
"Never again," he promised, voice thick with desire. "Not when I know just how insatiable you can be."
"You made me like this," I whispered as he spun me around, sliding me on top of him.
My legs straddled between his waist, hands holding onto the backrest between his broad shoulders. His green eyes locked on mine, like I was everything he lived for.
"And I'm glad I did," he breathed, his hand rising to cup my cheek. I kissed his wrist softly, whilst my fingers fumbled at the buttons of his pants.
He didn't even resist when I pulled them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang free. Hard and heavy already, dripping with pre-cum. I couldn't help it. My fingers wrapped around him, smearing the slickness over his tip, rubbing it up and down. His low groan sending shivers through me as his hands swept up my skirt.
With one hand, I pushed my underwear aside, and in one fluid motion, I sank down onto him.
We both gasped. It felt like coming home. Like this was where I truly belonged.
One hand braced on the back of the couch, the other pressed to his chest, I began to move. Hard and steady, matching the fierce beat of his heart beneath my palm. Perfectly unrelenting. Like it was beating, only for me.