Crossing All The Boundaries

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Luciano’s voice was a growl; low, dark, raw enough to scrape bone. “I’ll give you one last chance to walk away, Noora Veneitte. Because once I move—once I touch you—there’s no going back.”

He was trying to scare her off.

Begging her to bolt, to run like she always had, to leave him free to forget her.

But she didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

She stood before him like a storm dressed in skin, her chest rising and falling with fierceness, her eyes a wildfire refusing to burn out.

“I’m not running away from you anymore.”

Luciano’s heart twisted violently in his chest.

She didn’t know what she was inviting.

What kind of darkness lived inside him.

What kind of hunger had festered, starved, mutated into something savage.

He should’ve turned away.

He should’ve thrown her out.

But instead—

He grabbed her.

His arms wrapped around her waist in a violent, hungry pull, dragging her down onto his lap like she belonged there—like she was made to burn in his fire.

Her legs straddled him, her bare chest brushing against the heat of his body as her breath hitched and caught between them.

For a second, neither of them moved.

And then he moved.

His lips didn’t kiss; they devoured. He hovered over her skin, tongue trailing with wicked slowness down the column of her throat, across the delicate curve of her collarbone.

The taste of her made him groan deep in his chest; a sound so guttural it made her nails dig into his shoulders.

She didn’t pull back.

Instead, surprisingly she arched—offering more.

Luciano’s hands roamed her body, reverent and ruthless, gliding across her curves with a mix of worship and vengeance. Each stroke was a punishment.

Each touch a prayer. His grip on her hips tightened as if pulling her to the chaos between them.

It was supposed to be an exchange.

A twisted return.

Nothing more.

But her body betrayed her; traitorous and trembling, under his hands.

She should’ve recoiled. She should’ve screamed. But all she did was gasp as he sucked a sharp mark beneath her jawline, like he was branding her with hate and heat and possession.

Every place he touched her, he CLAIMED.

This was wrong. So deeply, unforgivably wrong.

But it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt like fire and damnation.

It felt like SIN but she wanted to drown in it.

Luciano’s mouth trailed lower. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, not gently, but with a hunger so sharp she moaned his name—raw, broken sound that cracked the air between them. He tugged, teeth scraping, tongue circling, dragging the moment out as if he never wanted to stop.

“Luciano—” she gasped, her voice caught between a cry and a plea.

His grip tightened around her, as if afraid she’d vanish if he let go.

His mouth moved to the other nipple, this time biting harder. She jerked in his arms, a scream escaping her lips but not of pain.

It was surrender.

The kind that came after too much restraint.

Too many stolen glances.

Too many words unsaid and too many nights wasted in hatred.

Luciano didn’t stop. He didn’t ease. He wanted her ruined by this; MARKED by him so deeply no one else would ever touch her without finding the ghosts of his fingers on her skin.

His hands slid lower. Down her waist. Over her hips.

Lower.

Noora whimpered softly, broken sound that vibrated against his lips. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders, gripped his hair, not pushing him away, but pulling him closer.

She was his prey but she was also the one devouring him.

And they both knew it.

One more move, and they would be beyond the point of no return.

One more breath, and they’d cross from revenge into something far more dangerous.

Both their hands clung to each other like lifelines in a storm; desperate, possessive, trembling.

Luciano growled low in his throat, a sound that rumbled against her chest as his hands moved—Lower… Lower...

Noora whimpered, breath catching as his fingers skimmed the tender skin of her thighs. Her head dropped to his shoulder, burying in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Then he pinched her thigh—sharp, deliberate.

Pain shot through her, followed by something darker.

Pleasure.

Her breath hitched.

He was holding himself back.

But she wasn’t.

The agreement had ended.

The line had blurred.

And still…still…she wanted more.

His hand stopped moving.

His breath brushed her ear as he whispered, dangerously low, “You want something more.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a truth he ripped out of her…without force, without pressure, just presence. Just heat. Just him.

Noora flinched.

The haze cracked. Just slightly. Like a thin sheet of glass under fire.

She should have denied it.

Should’ve spat out a furious ‘NEVER’, should’ve shoved him away and left with whatever dignity remained.

But she didn’t.

Because the heat between her thighs was a dead giveaway.

Because the way she clung to him betrayed her more than words ever could.

And he knew.

Of course, he knew.

Their foreheads touched, skin hot, breath mingled; her arms still around his neck, her hair cascading over their faces like a veil… shielding them from a world that could never understand what was happening between them.

What they were becoming.

Luciano’s eyes bore into hers—pupils dilated, wild, devouring. And when she looked back at him, flushed, panting, soaked in wicked desire with his face seared into her vision—he nearly lost it.

Just one more second.

One more second of her staring at him like that, and he would—

He would shove her onto the bed.

He would forget every sin.

He would burn them both to ash.

Knock~

Knock~

Knock~

The sound cleaved through the silence like a dagger. Shattered the moment.

Both of them froze; forehead still pressed to forehead, breath held, hearts racing like they were being hunted.

Noora didn’t move.

Luciano didn’t blink.