The First Taste

Chapter 3

Riven’s lips parted. Slow. Challenging. “Make me.”

There was nothing careful about it.

I closed the distance and kissed him. Heat, teeth, the kind of hunger that didn’t ask permission. His mouth opened under mine, fighting back just as hard. He tasted like coffee and defiance and something I couldn’t name. He bit my lower lip. Hard enough to draw blood. The sting shot straight through me.

I pinned his wrists above his head against the mirrored wall. The elevator had started moving but I barely noticed. All I felt was the press of his body. The way he pushed back even while his mouth gave in.

“You taste like revenge,” I muttered against his lips.

“And you taste like guilt.” He gasped between kisses. Hips rolling forward. Deliberate. “How many families did you bury to get this high, Voss?”

I pressed my thigh between his legs. Felt him hard against me. “Keep talking and I’ll make sure you can’t speak for a week.”

Riven laughed against my mouth. Raw. Broken. “Promises, promises.”

The elevator dinged. Doors opened to the penthouse hallway. I didn’t let go. Couldn’t. My grip on his wrists tightened as I dragged him out. Pushed him against the wall the second the doors closed behind us. Kissed him again. Deeper. My free hand slid under his shirt. Skin hot under my palm. Tattoos rough. He arched into the touch like he hated it and needed it at the same time.

“Bedroom,” I said against his neck. Teeth grazing skin.

Riven’s breath caught. “Make me walk there.”

I didn’t. I picked him up. His legs wrapped around my waist. Arms around my neck. We barely made it three steps before his mouth was on mine again. Messy. Desperate. Like we were both trying to win a war with our tongues.

I kicked the bedroom door open. Dropped him on the bed. He bounced once. Hoodie already half off. Eyes locked on mine. Still defiant. Still waiting.

I stood at the foot of the bed. Chest heaving. “Take the rest off.”

Riven sat up slow. Pulled the hoodie over his head. Shirt followed. Tattoos covered his chest and arms like stories I suddenly wanted to read. “Your turn, boss.”

I stripped my shirt off. Tossed it aside. His gaze dragged over my chest. My scar. The tension in my shoulders. Something shifted in his expression. Not just heat. Not just hate. Closer to recognition.

I climbed onto the bed. Pinned him down again. Skin to skin now. The contact hit hard. My pulse kicked harder than it should have. I rolled my hips against his. The friction dragged a low sound out of both of us.

Then it happened.

The vision slammed into me mid-thrust.

Blood. Riven standing over me. Gun steady. Whispering “For my father.”

I jerked back like I’d been shot. Chest heaving. The image still flashing behind my eyes. The room tilted. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was the vision anymore. My hands were still on him but they felt numb. Detached. Like they belonged to someone else.

Riven froze beneath me. “What the hell was that?”

I stared down at him. Naked. Flushed. Still hard. Still dangerous. My voice came out ragged. “You’re going to kill me. And I just fucked the man destined to pull the trigger.”

Riven’s eyes widened. Shock. Then something darker. “You… saw it? While you were inside me?”

I shoved off him. Sat on the edge of the bed. Hands shaking. The vision still echoed behind my eyes. Blood. The gun. His voice saying my death like a promise. I couldn’t look at him without seeing it. Couldn’t breathe without tasting metal.

Silence stretched. Thick. Ugly. The only sound was water still running somewhere in the background and our ragged breathing.

“Get out of my sight,” I said finally. “Before I change my mind and end this now.”

He didn’t move. Still lying there. Chest rising fast. “What if I don’t want to anymore?”

The words hit harder than the vision. I looked back at him. At the man I was supposed to break. At the man fate kept showing me as my killer.

My voice came out broken for the first time all night. “Then we’re both already dead.”