The downward thrust drove Maya forward into the mattress. Alex's fingers dug into her hips, matching the rough rhythm she had demanded when she scaled the outer wall of the Spire and climbed through the twenty-fourth-floor window. The night air drifting through the open glass did nothing to cool the feverish heat pouring from his skin.
Her torn blouse hung loosely around her elbows, and her shorts and panties lay discarded on the rug beside the bed. His trousers were bunched around his knees. The sudden, frantic collision was the only relief he could find from the fire trapped inside his chest.
Maya arched her back, pressing her face into the pillows. "Harder," she breathed, the word tight with urgency. Every impact felt like staking her claim on him, erasing any lingering thought of Emma Arlon from his mind.
