Chapter 120: The Claim

Chris didn't wait for a response. He never did.

In one smooth motion, he closed the space between them, his hand slipping around her waist, pulling her against him. Skylar barely had time to breathe before his lips crashed against hers—demanding, consuming, as if he was claiming back what was always his.

She gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest, but he didn't let go. He deepened the kiss, slow yet possessive, as if reminding her exactly who he was. Who they were.

Skylar's body betrayed her. She hated how familiar this felt—how easily she melted into him, how the fire between them had never truly faded.

His fingers traced along her spine, sending shivers through her as he whispered against her lips, "You still taste like mine."

She should have pushed him away. She should have stopped this. But when his lips moved to her jaw, trailing down to her neck, her breath hitched.

"Chris—"

"Shh." His voice was a murmur against her skin, his grip tightening just enough to remind her that he was no longer just the man she once knew. He was the most powerful man in the world.

And yet, right now, all his focus was on her.

His fingers traced the curve of her waist, slow, teasing, as if daring her to stop him. But she didn't. She couldn't.

"Tell me you don't want this," he whispered against her collarbone, his breath hot, his lips ghosting over her skin.

Skylar swallowed hard. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her pulse racing. Damn him. Damn how easily he still unraveled her.

She closed her eyes. Breathed in his scent. And then—

"I hate you," she whispered.

Chris smirked against her skin. "No, you don't."

And then, his lips were on hers again, dragging her deeper into the fire they could never escape.