"Keira…" His voice is rough with emotion. His lips find mine. Unlike our previous kisses since his return, hungry, angry, punishing, this one is achingly tender. It's the kiss of the boy I fell in love with.
I know I should stop this. There's too much at stake. Brigit, my parents, my own heart. But when his arms wrap around me, pulling me against the solid warmth of his chest, I'm lost.
My fingers tangle in his hair as the kiss deepens, years of longing and grief pouring into this one reckless moment. His hands slide down my back, lifting me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the desk.
Papers scatter as he sets me down, his mouth never leaving mine. I pull at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine, to reclaim some piece of what we once had.
My fingers glide over a bandage. I stop to look at it and then him. “You’re hurt.”
“Some of your father’s friends paid a visit.” His eyes narrow, studying me.
I feel it then, the doubt he has about me. “You think I sent them?” I release him, wishing he’d step back.
“No. But I wonder if you’d be okay if they’d succeeded.”
I close my eyes, hating this world I was born into. “Why do I let this happen?”
“What?”
“Give in to your touch when you think I’m a monster. You had your brothers’ sisters question me, but you don’t believe their report. You only believe what you want. That I’m a whore and—” God, I can’t go on.
“Keira.” He uses the crook of his finger to lift my chin. I want to refuse to look at him, but then again, I don’t want him to think I can’t stand up to him.
“You’re under the mistaken impression that you’re the only one who is helpless against the onslaught of past emotions. What we had was real?—”
“Then why ask me?”
“I guess I needed to hear it.”
“Yeah, well I could hear it too.”
His smile is soft as his gaze drifts to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “It was real. And despite everything, the power of what we had still radiates between us. It’s pulling us together even though we both have doubts now. Our situation is different now.”
I nod. “So, what do we do?”
“Honestly, I don’t know except that in moments like this, I want to give in to it. I think maybe you do too. But if you don’t…”
Push him away. Tell him no, you don’t want this. But he’s right. The desire to feel what we had ten years ago is too powerful to let go of. Despite the pain it will bring. Despite the fact that it’s a memory, not real now.
“I do too.”
Something like relief flashes in his eyes before he captures my mouth again. His hands push my dress up my thighs, and I let go. I’ll regret this later, but for now, I’m going to relive the wonder of us.
We move together with desperate urgency, as if trying to erase the decade that separated us, the betrayals, both real and imagined. For these stolen moments, there is no revenge, no secrets. It’s just Phoenix and Keira, finding their way back to each other.
My body remembers him, every touch, every caress. I arch against him as his hands slide beneath my dress, tracing patterns on my skin that make me gasp his name.
There's an urgency between us, a need that transcends the anger and betrayal. But then he slows, his lips against my neck.
“Not here,” he growls, lifting me and carrying me to the bed. He lays me down gently, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes my clothes. His touch is reverent now, almost apologetic, as if trying to erase every harsh word, every cruel action since his return. The vulnerability in his gaze undoes me completely. He’s back. The man I've mourned for ten years is here with me now.
Deep down, I know he’ll be gone again, so I do what I can to live in this moment. My hands roam his body, rediscovering him. He’s broader, more muscular than before, and yet the same.
"Look at me," he commands softly, and I open my eyes to find his face above mine, his expression raw with emotion. "I want to see you."
I reach up to touch his face, tracing the lines that weren't there before. With our gazes holding, he enters me. Emotion overwhelms me with the sense of rightness, of having what I lost back with me.
“Keira.” His voice has the same reverence as his touch as he moves. Slow. Controlled. As if he wants this moment to last forever. I know I do. The more the pressure builds, the more I’m desperate to hold off the end. To make this moment last.
