Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 247

Chapter 247-Sterling Was Waiting For Us

He stares down at me. The shadows hide the details of his face, but his storm-gray eyes burn. He strips the civilized veneer. The titan surrenders to the primal man.

He captures my mouth.

The kiss tastes like copper and sweat. It holds teeth and urgency. He presses his heavy body flush against mine. The friction sends a spike of heat straight to

my core. I wrap my free arm around his neck. I pull his head down. I match his desperate need.

He reaches under the high slit of my black silk dress. His calloused fingers hook the edge of my lace underwear. He rips the fragile fabric. It tears with a

sharp sound.

I gasp into his mouth. My hands grip his broad shoulders.

He unzips his trousers. He frees himself. He lifts my hips. I wrap my legs around his waist. He pushes into me with a hard, blunt thrust.

The impact drives the breath from my lungs. The cold concrete bites my back. The heat of his body consumes me. We do not possess the luxury of a bed. We possess a locked stairwell and a ticking clock.

He sets a punishing, rapid pace. Skin slaps against skin. The raw, jagged rhythm chases the shadows of death from my mind. The danger amplifies the fire. The federal hunt, the armed guards, the stolen ledger-everything vanishes. I focus on his heat. I focus on the sheer power of his body anchoring me to the earth.

I dig my nails into his neck. I chase the edge. The coil in my stomach tightens. The tension reaches a breaking point. A blinding wave of release crashes over

I muffle my cry against his throat. My body trembles.

He shudders a second later. A ragged groan escapes his lips. He buries his face in my hair. His chest heaves against mine.

We stand in the dark. The frantic beat of my heart levels out. The physical connection clears the fog of war. We claim our survival.

He lowers my feet to the floor. We adjust our clothes. He picks up the submachine gun from the concrete step.

“You pulled the trigger, Tristan murmurs. His breath warms my skin.

“You came back for me, I answer. “You abandoned the vault.”

A dozen private military contractors form a wide semi-circle around the loading dock. They wear heavy black tactical gear. They hold assault rifles raised

and aimed at our chests. Red laser sights dance across Tristan’s ruined tuxedo and my black silk dress.

A heavy, armored transport vehicle idles in the center of the formation. The exhaust pipe spits thick gray smoke into the rain.

The back door of the armored vehicle swings open.

A man steps onto the wet asphalt. He wears a dark, waterproof trench coat. He holds a sleek black umbrella over his head. The rain bounces off the fabric.

I recognize the posture. I recognize the cold, calculating eyes staring at us through the rain.

Federal Prosecutor Sterling.

He did not wait in his comfortable office across the ocean. He did not trust the broker to execute the deal. He came to collect his ledger in person.

‘Drop the weapons, Minerva, Sterling says. His voice projects through a megaphone. It echoes across the wet loading dock. “The hunt ends here.”