She looks at me for a long moment, her gray eyes filled with something I can't quite read.
"Some chains aren't made of metal, Phoenix," she says quietly. "Some are made of love and responsibility."
I step closer, drawn by the vulnerability in her voice. "Tell me. Whatever it is?—"
"No." She shakes her head firmly. "You betrayed me too, Phoenix. You promised me you’d take me away, and you didn’t.”
"If I had known, I would have found a way to you. I would have torn down walls, bribed guards, done whatever it took." The admission costs me something, but standing here with her, seeing the pain etched across her face, I can't maintain the lie that I didn't care.
"We could have had a life together," I continue, stepping closer. "Away from all this. Away from our families and their blood feuds."
Her eyes widen slightly, disbelief mingling with something that looks like hope.
"I used to dream about it," I admit. "A normal life. A home that wasn't built on violence and power. Kids running through hallways without armed guards at every door. I wanted that with you, Keira. Only you."
She gives me a wan smile. “That would have been nice. But that dream is gone.”
“Is it? Maybe it is, but we could still build something.”
She stares at me, and I imagine she’s trying to decide what I want and whether I’m being sincere. I don’t blame her.
“You want children?”
I hadn’t thought about it until this moment, but now I do. Several of them, even knowing I’ve ruined any chance of that.“Yes. I hope that we can make them without your doing it out of a sense of compliance or duty.”
My hand moves of its own accord, fingers brushing against her cheek. She doesn't pull away. Something breaks open inside me, and before I can second-guess myself, I lean in and capture her lips with mine.
This kiss is nothing like our earlier ones. There's no anger driving it, no need to dominate or punish. Just raw need and ten years of buried longing.
To my surprise, she doesn't push me away. Instead, her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me closer.
The heat between us ignites instantly, familiar yet new. My hands frame her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones as I deepen the kiss. She tastes exactly as I remember.
A small sound escapes her throat, part surrender, part demand. My control snaps. I back her against the wall, lifting her as her legs wrap around my waist. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and it feels surreal. After everything, she wants me.
My lips trace the column of her throat as her head falls back, exposing more skin for me to taste. Her pulse hammers beneath my mouth, matching the thundering of my own heart.
I carry her to bed, our clothes falling away in our haste to feel skin against skin. I’m frantic, wanting to touch and taste every inch of her. Now. My hands roam. My lips taste. I reacquaint myself with her body. It’s her. My Keira. And yet different. Rounder in some areas. Softer in others. But still her. Really her. More intense than memory, more consuming than fantasy.
My dick is throbbing to be inside her. I reach between us, sliding my fingers through her pussy lips, finding them wet. I groan at how wet. It’s like a fucking miracle.
When I finally cover her body with mine and thrust inside her, the sensation is overwhelming, like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing.
She arches under me, taking me deeper. Does she feel it too? God, I hope so.
I lose myself in Keira, in the feel of her beneath me, around me. Ten years of hatred and anger melt away as we move together, our bodies remembering what our minds tried to forget.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent, letting it wash over me. How many nights had I dreamed of this? How many times had I woken up reaching for her, only to find cold, empty sheets?
I watch her face as pleasure builds. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“Come, Keira. I want to watch you come.”
Her breath hitches, her body arches, her pussy clamps down around mine. As her orgasm overtakes her, I memorize every detail. The way her lips part, the flush that spreads across her cheeks, the soft sounds she makes as I continue to drive into her, hitting the right spot.
"Phoenix," she gasps. My name on her lips is the final straw. I buck, plunging deep inside her as my orgasm slams into me, fast, hard, intense. I radiates from my dick out to every cell in my body. It feels out of control, but so fucking good.
I collapse over her, spent and breathless. I want to savor this moment. To believe the last ten years are erased. Or that we can start new. But reality hovers in my mind, threatening to intrude. There are still so many questions unanswered, so much pain between us. And can I be sure that she really wanted this? Could this be a duty fuck? The idea of it makes me sick. I don’t want her to hand her body over without her wanting mine in return.
