Page 90 of Born in Sin
Her chest was heaving when she stopped talking, her pretense of calm fraying under the intensity of her emotions.
“Are you done?” he asked her, when she finally fell silent.
Cara nodded, tipping her chin up in challenge.
“Good. Then you can listen while I talk.” He walked over to where she sat and dropped to his knees in front of her.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand, saying quietly, “My turn.”
Cara shut her mouth, waiting.
“My mother walked away from me when I was two weeks old. She never looked back. My father has preferred to ignore my existence, shoving me into any place that kept me out of sight and out of mind. And thenyouarrived at Crestwood. And you chose me.”
He held her gaze, swallowed hard. “No one ever chose me, Celi, not until you. But you did and you kept choosing me every single day after that. No matter how many times I asked you to leave me, you never did. And you paid the biggest price for choosing me, for loving me. They would never have come for you, if not for me.”
“I would burn the world down for you, Celi. But I was the reason your whole world burnt down instead. Leaving you so you could live, breathe, and be the best possible version of yourself, basking in the sunlight or the arc lights without my shadows infecting you, it was both the hardest and easiest decision I have ever made. I would make it again, Celi. Every single time. Hate me for it, if you want, but I would put you first. Every. Single. Time. In this lifetime and every one that follows.”
She closed her eyes, a single tear tracking down her flawless cheek. She dropped her forehead to his, her breath feathering over his lips.
“You had no right,” she whispered again. “To take that choice away from me.”
“I’m sorry.” Choked, emotional words spilled from his lips, his head dropping to her lap, burying his face in the soft warmth ofher. “I’m so sorry but leaving you was the only way I could help you. And there is no way that I wouldn’t take to help you.”
She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging so he’d look up at her. She kissed him gently, her lips caressing his. The kiss deepened in an instant, going from soft to shattering. His hands framed her face, fingers digging into her skin like he needed to ground himself in the reality of her. She tasted like fury and longing, like the years he’d lost and the breath he hadn’t taken since. He groaned into her mouth, part agony, part surrender.
Celi gasped as he kissed her harder. Her hands slid down to his shoulders, clinging. Clothes tore between them, buttons flying, cotton ripping, her top peeled down to reveal flushed skin and heaving breaths. His mouth was everywhere, greedy and reverent, lips trailing from her collarbone to the curve of her breast. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she arched, a strangled moan breaking from her throat.
Her hands were no gentler, pushing, clawing, yanking his shirt off, nails raking down his back like she needed to mark him. Like she needed him to carry this with him when he left again. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Not this time. She wouldn’t let him.
“God, Celi,” he breathed against her skin. “You undo me.”
“And you put me back together,” she whispered.
He growled, a deep, guttural sound, and shoved his pants down, her underwear following. There was no coyness, no hesitation. Just skin on skin, raw and real. He reached for the condom in his wallet and sheathed himself. He hovered above her, thick and hard and trembling with restraint.
“Mine,” he murmured, taking her mouth in a kiss that branded them both for eternity.
“Always yours,” she answered, as she wrapped her fingers around him and guided him to her. He thrust into her in one fluid, savage stroke—and they both cried out.
The stretch, the heat, the goddamn relief of being inside her nearly unravelled him. She clung to him with legs around his hips, heels digging into his back as he moved. It wasn’t tender, it wasn’t gentle, it was everything they’d buried erupting at once. She met him thrust for thrust, moaning into his mouth, panting against his throat. Every movement felt like punishment and forgiveness, a vow and a plea.
He pinned her wrists above her head, eyes locked on hers, taking her like it was the last thing he'd ever do. Her body convulsed beneath him, her orgasm hitting like a storm—violent, involuntary, sacred. She sobbed his name as she shattered.
And when he followed her, seconds later, he buried his face in her neck and let go with a raw, strangled groan, pouring everything he’d never said into her body.
They collapsed into a tangled heap of limbs and sweat, too stunned to speak. Silence settled around them like smoke—warm, clinging, impossible to escape.
Celi lay sprawled across his chest, her hair damp against his skin, her breath still catching now and then like her body hadn't quite recovered. His arms were around her, tight but gentle, one hand drifting slowly up and down her spine in a motion more instinct than thought.
Neither of them spoke.
Because words would break it, the weight of what they’d just done, the hope it carried with it.
“I didn’t think I’d ever touch you again,” he said quietly, the words scratching their way out of his throat. “I used to dream about it. Wake up with my hand clenched around nothing.”
Her fingers tightened against his ribs. “And I used to wake up angry that I still wanted you.”
He closed his eyes. “I deserve that.”
