I peel off my damp shirt, feeling her gaze on me now whether she wants to admit it or not. She swallows, then turns slightly toward the bed, pretending to smooth the blanket.
“You’re staring,” I say, my voice low.
She glances over her shoulder. “You’re imagining it.”
“Am I?”
The corner of her mouth lifts, but it’s small, tight, like she’s fighting herself.
I step closer, holding her gaze, and set the dry shirt down on the dresser. “We’ve been dancing around this for a long time, Lyla.”
Her breath catches. “This is dangerous.”
“Everything about you is dangerous to me,” I say, and I mean it. “Doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”
She doesn’t move when I reach up and brush my fingers along her jaw, tilting her face toward mine.
Her eyes search mine for a beat, like she’s weighing every reason to push me away. Then she’s rising onto her toes, closing the space between us.
The first press of her mouth is slow — testing — but it doesn’t stay that way. I cup the back of her head and deepen the kiss, swallowing the soft sound she makes when her fingers fist in my shirt.
Her sweater is gone in seconds, my hands skimming the warm skin of her back. She trembles, and I don’t know if it’s from the cold still in the air or the way I’m touching her.
“Damien…” It’s half a warning, half a plea.
“I know,” I murmur against her throat, kissing down the column of her neck. “But I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”
She doesn’t. Instead, she tugs at the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head. My jeans are still damp, clinging, but her hands slide under the waistband anyway, fingers grazing my hip before drifting lower.
I groan, catching her mouth with mine again as I walk her backward toward the bed. She goes willingly, sitting on the edge before I lower her back against the mattress.
The grief in the room — in this whole house — is still here, but now it’s something that binds us instead of holding us apart.Every touch is a reminder of what we’ve lost and what we’ve almost lost in each other.
I slip my hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, finding her already wet. Her hips arch, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. “God, Lyla…”
She grabs at my shoulders, pulling me down until we’re chest to chest, my hand still moving against her until she’s crying out my name.
When I finally push inside her, it’s not rough, not rushed — but it’s deep. Like I’ve been waiting for this exact moment for years.
Her nails dig into my back, her breath catching on every thrust. “Damien…” she whispers again, but this time it’s not a warning. It’s an anchor.
I kiss her like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered here, because maybe she is.
Her lips are warm and insistent under mine, the kiss deepening until it’s a tangle of teeth and tongues and breathless need. I can’t get enough of her — not her taste, not the way she arches into my touch like she’s been waiting just as long as I have.
I drag my mouth from hers, down the delicate line of her jaw, to the soft skin of her throat. She tilts her head back, a soft sound slipping free when my tongue traces the spot just below her ear. My hands are everywhere — memorizing the slope of her waist, the curve of her hips.
When I tug her sweater over her head, her hair spills loose around her face, and I swear I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful. I take my time unhooking her bra, watching her breathing hitch when I cup her bare breasts, my thumbs brushing over her nipples until they’re hard peaks.
“Damien…” she whispers, but it’s not a protest.
“Been wanting to taste you for years,” I tell her, my voice low and rough.
She shivers as I kiss down her stomach, slowly peeling her leggings and panties down her thighs. I settle between her legs, hands sliding up to grip her hips as I press an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh. She’s already wet, and the scent of her hits me like a punch to the gut.
The first stroke of my tongue makes her gasp, her fingers tangling in my hair. I take my time, licking her in slow, deliberate passes before flicking my tongue over her clit, feeling her thighs tense around me.
“Oh, God—”
