Page 103 of Vicious Kingdom

His eyes went wide. “Anna!”

I hissed. Blood pooled on the tip of my finger. I was standing there, completely oblivious, playing with a knife.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” I rushed to say.

“You’re not.” Leo lifted me in his arms.

Lord above, this was so nice. My favorite place. Cradled tight against his solid form.

He set me on the counter, turned the cold water on, and held my hand under the flow.

“See? Just a little nick,” I smiled quietly.

Leo pulled my hand out, bringing it close to his face to better inspect the damage. He placed it against his lips—

And sucked.

The primal gesture sent a thrill through me. Heat surged between my legs.

The animal in him sensed it. The next moment, he was on me. In a tangle of arms and legs, we pulled at each other’s clothing until we were naked.

In one, unforgiving thrust, he was inside me.

We groaned in unison.

He gripped my hips hard, lifting me slightly as he slammed into me again. The countertop was cold against me, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. His eyes were wild, possessive, as he drove into me with relentless force.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice guttural and raw. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasped, clinging to his shoulders as he pounded into me. “Only yours, Leo.”

The edge of the kitchen island dug into my back as he braced one hand beside my head and used the other to hitch my leg higher around his waist. The new angle had me crying out, my voice echoing through the kitchen.

Our bodies slapped together, the sound obscene and perfect in the quiet apartment. He was merciless, taking what was his, claiming me in the most primal way possible. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks as I held on. This wasn’t gentle lovemaking; this was pure, animalistic need.

“I am never letting you go,” Leo snarled against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “You. Are. Mine.”

My head fell back as pleasure built inside me, coiling tighter with each thrust. The counter was slick beneath me, our bodies slippery with sweat as he drove us both toward release.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and my eyes flew open to meet his. “I want to see you when you come.”

Something in his gaze undid me—the vulnerability behind the rage, the fear beneath the possession. I shattered around him, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through me. My vision blurred at the edges, but I kept my eyes locked on his.

That terrible face contorted in a burst of ecstasy.

He shuddered inside me. Liquid heat, a mixture of us both, leaked from my entrance as he thrust into me once—twice more.

And then we were still.

Our ragged breathing filled the silence. Leo’s forehead rested against mine, the anger from moments before replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. I loved when he touched me like this. As if our minds could reach out and close the distance. Face to face, breath to breath, it was pure intimacy. His thumbs traced gentle circles on my hips where bruises would surely form tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath hot against my lips. “For burning the torte.”

That was supposed to be a torte? Biscotti, maybe. But flourless, chocolate torte?

I grinned. “Don’t be.”

His eyes, those intense dark pools that could shift from rage to tenderness in heartbeats, searched mine. “I’m sorry for leaving on our wedding night.”