Before she could say another word, he moved in. His arms wrapped around her with urgency, his lips crashing onto hers in a kiss that was raw, hungry, possessive. He stepped inside, shutting the door with a swift kick, and lifted her into his arms. Instinctively, Celina wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands gripping his broad shoulders. Thor carried her until her back met the nearest wall, never breaking the kiss. It was desire tangled with rage, longing, and something heavier—something neither of them dared to name.

She tried to speak, breathless between his kisses.

“Thor… are you drunk?”

He silenced her with another searing kiss, as if he could erase memories and claim every inch of her he feared belonged to someone else. When their lips parted for a fleeting moment, Celina whispered, almost in lament:

“Thor, we need to talk…”

But he wasn’t in the mood to listen. His mouth trailed down her neck, marking her skin with wet, feverish kisses as he murmured in a low, husky voice ch