Sweet Hatred

(Hi. Before proceeding, I just wanted to say that the previous chapter has been edited since I added the rest instead of a whole new chapter so you can go back to read the remaining so this chapter isn't confusing.)

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KAEL'S POV

I wasn't expecting it.

Not in the slightest.

I had come back to gloat. To poke at the cracks, to see how much more I could widen them.

But this? This was better. Because standing in front of me—frozen, caught, furious—was Aria. And she was wearing the lingerie I bought for her.

Black lace. Delicate but sinful. It clung to her like a second skin, a contradiction of soft and lethal.

Should have made her look vulnerable. Should have.

But the way she held herself? Shoulders tight, chin lifted, fists clenched. There was nothing soft about her. She was razor wire wrapped in silk. And fuck, she was seething.

I saw it in the flare of her nostrils, the press of her lips, the way her gaze pinned me like she wanted to flay me open.

Daring me to say something.

So I did. My gaze dragged over her slowly, deliberately, soaking in every inch. Her jaw tensed.

Good.

I arched a brow, tilting my head, letting the silence suffocate her. Her nails dug into her palms—like she was imagining them sinking into my skin instead. My blood rushed south almost instantly. Restraint? Gone.

Hell, how could I keep myself together in front of her? It almost felt like a criminal offense not to.

Aria was a Pandora's box of wicked, violent temptation. And I was desperate to pry her open. I didn't hesitate.

One second, she was standing. The next, I had swept her off her feet, pulling the goddamn robe off. Her fists slammed into my back as I carried her toward the bedroom.

She thrashed. Pointless. Cute.

I pushed the door open, a slow, deliberate motion, like I had all the time in the world. A smirk curled on my lips. Predatory.

"Didn't take you for the type to dress up for me, sweetheart."

Her body went rigid.

Even better.

I tossed her onto the bed, the impact bouncing through her, her breasts recoiling from the movement.

Before she could recover, I was on her.

Towering. Dominating. Pinning her down.

Her nails squeezed into the sheet. I was almost jealous of it.

I leaned in, voice a low, mocking vibration.

"What's wrong?" My lips hovered over hers. Close enough to taste. "Cat got your tongue?"

A sharp exhale.

I could already see the venom forming behind her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was icy, precise, merciless.

"I wouldn't dress up for you if my life depended on it."

I chuckled.

"Really?" My fingers twitched with the urge to test that. To pull at the lace. To see how deep her defiance ran.

"That's funny, because you're in my bed…" My fingers skimmed her thigh, teasing. "…looking pretty in something I picked out just for you."

Her eyes flashed. Fuck, I loved it. She lifted her chin, her lips curling in disdain.

Mocking me.

"This?" Her fingers ghosted over the thin strap of her lingerie, her voice thick with contempt.

"I only wore it so I could throw it back in your face."

I hummed, unconvinced.

"Is that right?"

Silence. I stepped closer—close enough that the air turned charged.

"You hate it that much, huh?" My hand lifted, fingers grazing the strap, tugging lightly.

She stiffened. And I smiled. Slow. Taunting. I leaned down, my breath warm against her ear.

"Or do you hate that I'm the one who gave it to you?"

Her breath hitched.

I saw it—the flicker of something she desperately wanted to kill. She wanted to hurt me. Wanted to wipe that smirk off my face.

And for a second, I thought she might. Then—she laughed. Cold. Cruel. Like she was laughing at a joke I wasn't even aware I told.

When she looked up at me, her eyes burned. My cock twitched, desperate to ruin her.

To bury so deep inside her that the only curse left on her tongue was my name. She exhaled, slow and deliberate.

"I hate you," she whispered, her fingers trailing up my chest, mimicking the way I touched her.

Mocking me. My breath seized.

"I hate the way you talk," she continued, her voice silk over steel. "The way you look at me. The way you think you have any hold over me."

Then she moved. Leaning in—lips barely brushing mine. Her voice dropped.

"But most of all, Kael?"

Push.

Her palm pressed against my chest. And I let her.

"I hate that you think this means you win."

I chuckled—low, dark—because fuck, she really thought she had me.

My grip on her wrist tightened just enough. Not enough to hurt. Enough to remind her who was really in control.

"Win?" I repeated, my voice dripping with amusement. "Oh, darling."

I tugged her closer, her breath sharp, clipped, furious. My tie slipped loose in my hand. Deliberate. Controlled.

"You think this is a game I need to win?" I murmured, tilting my head, watching her mask slip for half a second.

Then I leaned in—just enough for my lips to barely skim the corner of hers. Just enough to let her feel me.

"You should know by now," I whispered, my fingers ghosting down her spine, making her shudder despite herself. "I already own you."

Her whole body went rigid.

That anger—the one I fucking craved—flashed in her eyes like a live wire.

The next second, she ripped her wrist free. Shoved me. Hard. I let her.

"You own nothing," she spat, her voice pure acid. "Not me. Not this."

I smiled. God, I loved this.

"Is that so?" I mused, rolling my sleeves up. "Then by all means, you can back out now. Or stay. It's your choice."

I let the words settle between us. Thick. Heavy.

Daring her.

Her nostrils flared, chin tilting, defiance written in every inch of her. "You think you can scare me?" she sneered.

I grinned. Fucking perfect.

In one swift move, I had her back on the bed.

Hips pressing. Bodies brushed. A light gasp escaped her lips and I caught it.

I grabbed both her wrists, dragging them above her head. The silk of my tie slithered against her skin. Binding her.

She stared up at me. Unfazed. Mocking.

"Is that all?" she taunted, arching her brow.

I ran a hand down her body, slow, torturous. Hovering over her nipples poking out of the fabric. Not touching. She exhaled sharply, her hands twitching.

I smirked.

"Not even close."

Her breath grew heavier, those eyes still burning like the fucking sun—and I'd happily get scorched.

My hands drifted upward, slow, deliberate. Over the delicate silk barely covering her, my fingers traced the hardened peaks of her nipples, teasing, circling—just enough to make her breath catch but not enough to give her what she needed.

She was so damn reactive. So wound up and pissed off, trying to convince herself this wasn't affecting her. But I knew her body better than she did.

I dragged my thumb up—higher, higher—until it brushed against her lips. Soft. Warm. Slightly parted.

Her breath hit my skin in hot, uneven bursts. My cock pulsed, aching to feel that mouth around me, to hear how fucking sweet she'd sound with it stretching her open. But not yet.

I pulled my thumb away and leaned in instead, my lips brushing against hers—so light, so fleeting, she probably thought she imagined it.

She didn't move. Waiting. Expecting.

I smirked against her mouth. Too easy, Firefly.

Instead, I veered off, my lips trailing to her ear. A soft kiss—barely there—before I caught the lobe between my teeth, biting just enough to make her jump.

A breathy sound slipped past her lips. She swallowed it too late. I fucking heard it.

I chuckled against her skin. Cute.

Dragging my mouth lower, I followed the slope of her jaw, the delicate curve of her throat, down to her collarbone. Semi-hard kisses, slow and open-mouthed, just enough pressure to remind her who was in control.

Her breathing grew more uneven, skin burning the right amount.

But no moans. Stubborn much. But my motivation grew.

I dipped lower, settling between her breasts, letting my breath ghost over her skin. She tensed, knowing what was coming.

Still, I took my time.

I let my tongue slip out, just barely grazing the peak of her nipple through the soft silk—slow, so slow—dragging damp heat over the sensitive bud before sucking it into my mouth.

Her breath hitched. I counted. One…Two… And then I stopped. I lifted my head, watching her. Fuck.

She looked like a dream. A fever. Flushed, lips parted, those golden eyes locked onto mine in a mix of rebelliousness and something much, much more dangerous, pulling me in effortlessly.

She blinked, her glare snapping back into place.

Good girl. Fight me.

"You sick fuck,"she rasped, voice sharp." you suck really bad at this,"

I smirked, dragging my tongue across my bottom lip like I was savoring the taste of her.

"Mmm." My voice dipped, teasing, dragging. "but you're getting breathless for someone who's not enjoying this, Firefly."

Her jaw clenched.

I hovered.

My lips just above her nipple. So close. Warm breath washing over it.

She didn't move. Not yet.

And then—a twitch. The smallest shift of her body, like she was reaching for it without meaning to.

Got you.

I rewarded her with a slow, deep lick, my tongue rolling over the stiff peak, dragging out every second of contact before closing my lips around it again, sucking.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

And that was when I knew—I'd won.