Shattered Vows - The Empty Barrel Sounded Loud

ing in her mind. She should have walked away, left the gala without a second glance-but the fire in her veins wouldn't let her. Instead, she found herself storming into the dimly lit

words wouldn't come. Her body betrayed her, every nerve alight as he reached up, his fingers grazing her jaw, tilting her chin so their eyes locked. The air between them was suffocating, thick with something reckless, something inevitable. She could walk away. She should. But instead, she surged forward, crashing her lips against his in a desperate, furious kiss. Killian responded instantly, his grip tightening as he pulled her flush against him, deepening the kiss with a hunger that stole the breath from her lungs. It was fire and destruction, a war neither of them wanted to lose. Hands roamed, nails dug into fabric, soft gasps filled the space as control unraveled thread by thread. Somewhere between tangled limbs and whispered curses, Killian lifted her onto the desk, knocking over a glass in the process. The sound barely registered, drowned out by the pounding of her heart. "This is a mistake," she managed to whisper as his lips trailed down her neck, setting fire to her skin. "Then stop me," he murmured against her pulse. She didn't. And neither did he. That night, logic burned to ashes, leaving only raw need in its wake. A reckless mistake, tangled in silk sheets and quiet moans, branding Isla and Killian with something neither could take back. A mistake they'd soon regret. --- The golden morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, illuminating the chaos of the previous night. Clothes were discarded haphazardly across the floor, a testament to the urgency that had driven them. The lingering scent of whiskey and desire still clung to the air, a stark reminder of what they had done. Isla stirred first, her body sore from the intensity of their passion. As the haze of sleep lifted, so did the realization of where she was. Her heart pounded as her gaze landed on the man beside her. Killian Blackwood, the man she loathed, lay next to her, his sculpted chest rising and falling in steady breaths. Even in sleep, he