We don’t undress. We unravel—the armor, the fear, the loneliness. One breath at a time.
“I’m clean. Got condoms,” he offers.
“I’m clean, too, and on the pill. No need for a condom.” My eyes dart to the huge, night-blackened window, heart thudding. “But what if someone sees us?”
“Our safe spot. Home,” he grumbles. “No one touches this place. Anyone who tries will pay.” There’s iron and steel in his voice.
But the pleasure is sweet, overflowing, like the juice down his scarred wrist as he circles my other nipple with his tongue, and I see stars. Rough hand slides between my legs, thick thumb sliding over my folds, slickening in my arousal.
“So wet.” He groans. “Like you need me. Like I’m enough.”
“You’re all I need,” I admit, voice stuttering as he circles my clit. I arch back on a sharp inhale, pleasure rushing through me like a tsunami. His insistent mouth teases and draws me out, expert thumb unraveling me with each lazy orbit. He slides a thick finger inside, curling it back toward him. My body jolts. Breath escapes my lips. Every nerve sparks alive.
My fingernails dig into his back, voice far away, begging him not to stop. Like my whole world, all meaning rests in his mouth and one hand. The other stays clamped at my waist, demanding friction as I roll my drenched core over his thick, hot length.
“Oh, God, Anson. I’m going to come.” I brace, lower ab muscles tightening, legs shaking. His merciless stroke and naughty mouth push me over the edge. Floating free, I gasp, quivering and flooding warm, tears pooling, emotion ripping through me on a whimper that burgeons into a scream.
He talks me through it, works me until I melt against him, quivering. Completely absorbed by him.
Anson licks his fingers, pupils blown, breath hitching as his grip centers on my hips again. The fire pops and sizzles, warm, inviting as he slides into me. I gasp—so thick, so raw, too large. Pushing me well past the point of comfort. Yet, somehow, the completion I’ve always needed. Like a piece of my soul clicking into place.
I stare into his eyes, overflowing with tenderness, souls touching in our unbroken gaze. His hips move, driving deeperwith each thrust, demanding, giving even more. I cup his cheeks, smile, eyes melting into his.
Not casual sex. Not lust. But vulnerability, ache and fill, pain and pleasure. Heady and overwhelming as he takes me over the edge again. I break hard, gasping, sobbing, kissing his face. Totally his.
He follows behind, breath hot on my neck, passion rolling through me, waves of heat and rumbling pleasure. Strong hands gripping my waist so hard I’m sure I’ll bruise. And yet the touch is tender, reverential, messy and ardent. Two lives coming together, two worlds crashing.
I love you.
Those three words hang in the sliver of air between us. They shine in his eyes, etch in my heart. An unspoken agreement as our breathing slows, and I snuggle against him. He pulls a fur blanket over us, decadent soft against my naked flesh. Bodies tangled, union fortified in the comfortable silence that settles.
His fingertips stroke absent-mindedly over my shoulder into my hair as we watch the fire, transfixed by glowing amber.
“Need you here,” he murmurs—more vow than claim. His lips find mine, not a kiss of hunger. A kiss of home. His words, spoken from an honesty too absolute to deny. Not possession, not covetousness. Just the truth of what we are together.
Chapter
Ten
ANSON
Lacey sleeps hard pressed against my chest, blanket sagging at her shoulder. Skin on skin. Breath soft as the faint vanilla enveloping me.
Outside, the wind howls, the windows rattle. Haven’t felt this kind of build before a storm in a long time. Weather changing, autumn slipping into winter.
I run my hand gently down her back, touch whisper-soft, careful not to wake her. Not sure if that’s possible. She’s heavy in my arms, like it’s the first good rest in years.
I kiss the silk of her hair, whisper against the top of her head, “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”
The fire crackles, down to glowing embers, blue and orange, gray ash curling at the edges. I absorb the calm of her sleeping face, caught in the receding, unyielding glow of the dying flames.
A gust slams the house, boards straining against the force. She shivers despite the blanket, the warmth. “Sounds terrible out there.”
“Storm coming for sure. But you’re safe with me.”
The wind’s got a strange edge to it—sharp, metallic, like it’s dragging the scent of far-off trouble. Might just be the shift in pressure, but it crawls down my spine all the same.
She relaxes against my chest, her pillow. The softness of her steady breath curling along my muscles, tender, sweet. It puts a sting in the back of my eyes. Coils me like a trap, ready to spring against any threat. To keep her safe. To keep her mine.
