Page 34

"Show me."

She offered him her submission with her eyes first—steady, intelligent, no flinching—but beneath it all, something trembled. Not fear. Not doubt. Just the raw ache of surrender brushing up against the last walls of pride she hadn’t realized were still standing.

His hands were on her before the first breath could settle. One anchored firmly at the back of her neck, thumb brushingthe line of her jaw. The other glided down her ribcage to her hip, then around to her lower back—a deliberate caress that left her gasping. He moved with purpose, not haste. With heat that smoldered, not scorched. Each touch branded her—intimate, controlled, and unmistakably his.

"Say it," he whispered.

Her lips parted. "Yours."

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin—a raw, primal sound that sent shivers down her spine. Keira's breath caught, her body arching into his as if drawn by the gravity of that hunger. Her heart pounded, the charged silence between them bursting with want, and in that moment, she felt utterly known—unraveled and remade in the space between restraint and surrender. And then, like a dam breaking, restraint gave way to hunger. There was no more waiting.

Clothes disappeared between fevered kisses and roaming hands, landing in forgotten heaps at their feet. Her skin buzzed, hypersensitive, as though every nerve had been rewired. The overload—his scent like smoke and spice, the rasp of his stubble, the low growl vibrating in his chest—was a sensory storm crashing through her. His body caged her against the mattress, heat and power pressing her down, not with force, but possession. But it was the way he held her—palms reverent, arms unyielding—that unraveled her completely. Like she wasn’t just wanted, but claimed. Like she was his gravity, his center. And God help her, she wanted to be.

He pushed her back into the mattress his grip firm yet reverent as he pinned her wrists high above her head. His mouth moved with greedy precision—along her jaw, down her throat, over her breasts—each lick and bite a declaration, every caress marked by heat and command. "Mine," he rasped against her skin, his breath hot and unrelenting. "Smart girl. Beautiful. So fucking brave."

His teeth grazed the sensitive curve beneath her breast, tongue chasing the sting with soothing heat. One hand tightened around her wrists, the other sliding down her ribs to palm her hip, dragging her closer as his mouth mapped her like sacred ground. The air between them thickened with tension—raw, electric, carnal. She bowed beneath him, a whimper catching in her throat as his praise sank in, igniting every place his touch had yet to claim.

Her body arched, chasing the ghost of his touch, every nerve lit up like a fuse burning toward detonation. The sheets rasped against her heated skin as her thighs pressed and shifted, slick with need. Tension gathered low in her belly, a molten knot of urgency twisting tighter with every breath. He hovered just beyond contact, watching her squirm with a dark, ravenous gleam in his eyes—silent, commanding, ruthless in his patience. She whimpered, her breath catching in short, shallow bursts, the ache for him a fire under her skin. Her voice cracked on a whispered plea, raw and aching—and only then did he move, unleashing the storm she'd begged for.

He teased her with his mouth until she was shaking, every flick of his tongue deliberate, merciless. He licked, sucked, and tormented her with precision—slow drags, sudden flicks, then maddening stillness that made her hips jerk and her breath sob out of her throat. His fingers spread her thighs wider, anchoring her open as he feasted with cruel, clever hunger, every moan of hers chased by a deeper one from him. Her nails scrabbled at the sheets, pleasure a relentless climb that made her toes curl and her vision blur. Her spine arched as she writhed under his control, pleasure twisted so tight in her gut it burned, raw and aching, a fuse drawn taut and begging to ignite.

“Not yet,” he growled, voice like gravel edged with steel. His hands clamped her thighs apart, his thumbs digging in—not cruel, but absolute. “You come when I say. You’ll take every second of it, and you’ll thank me when I let you fall.”

She whimpered, her thighs trembling and fists clenched in the sheets, every muscle tight with the excruciating ecstasy of denied release. Her breath hitched, eyes squeezing shut as the ache rippled through her—hot, insistent, and maddeningly incomplete. The hunger built with nowhere to go, crackling inside her like a live wire waiting for the strike. It shouldn’t have turned her on more, but it did.

He dragged her to the edge again and again, mastery in every motion—pulling her back with a single word murmured like a spell, a possessive squeeze of his hand, the rough scrape of his stubble grazing her inner thigh, or the low, feral growl he let spill hot against her slick skin. Her whole world funneled down to those ragged moments, his command the only anchor in a sea of ravenous pleasure.

And when he finally let her go, it shattered her—splintering through her like a lightning strike in the marrow, every nerve ending flaring raw and holy. Her cry broke free, wild and wordless, the culmination of hunger and helplessness and surrender. Her body convulsed with release, each pulse dragging her deeper into a dark, glittering edge of pleasure where thought dissolved, and only sensation remained—scorching, sacred, and his.

She came with a cry that echoed through the walls, her body locking around his as he surged into her, hard and deep. He didn’t let her catch her breath, taking her through wave after wave, his rhythm brutal and perfect.

After, he framed her face in his palms, the pads of his thumbs stroking her cheekbones with a reverence that steadied the rawness still pulsing in the space between them. His breath came hard and uneven, chest heaving with restrained intensity. Eyes locked on hers, burning and unguarded. "You with me?"he asked, voice hoarse but commanding, threaded with the authority of a man who took what was his—and the tenderness of one who never forgot the cost of that claim.

She nodded, her limbs still trembling, her breath shallow. Words stuck somewhere behind the swell of everything he'd just undone in her. Too wrung out to speak, but grounded. Aware. Utterly, irrevocably present.

He kissed her forehead—slow and deliberate, a benediction. His lips trailed down to her cheek, lingering with a soft scrape of stubble that made her shiver. Then lower still, claiming her mouth in a kiss that was all heat and possession, a deep, unhurried demand that curled through her like smoke.

Then, with deliberate slowness that sent a ripple of heat down her spine, he reached into the drawer beside the bed, the quiet rasp of wood sliding against wood heightening the charged silence between them and felt loud in the quiet, a sensual promise wrapped in anticipation. Her breath hitched, the muscles in her belly tightening as the air thickened with unspoken need.

Her heart kicked. "What’re you doing?"

He pulled out a collar made of white diamonds strung together, each one catching the light like fire. They moved like a serpent, fluid and hypnotic. From the center, an emerald trinity knot hung—a symbol of unity, eternity, and something far more ancient than words.

He didn’t speak. Just waited.

Keira stared at it. And then slowly, deliberately, she nodded.

He fastened it around her throat with a reverence that bordered on worship, each movement slow and deliberate as he locked it in place. The white diamonds draped like liquid fire over her skin, the emerald trinity knot settling in the hollow of her throat with weight and promise. His fingers lingered againsther pulse, warm and steady, grounding her as his gaze held hers—unchanging, unrelenting, and utterly hers.

When it was done, she exhaled. Not from fear. From release.

He kissed her again, softer this time, and murmured, "I love you; now we begin... again."

Keira nodded with tears in her eyes. "I love you too... I always did."

Later, after she’d showered and dressed in one of his shirts, he led her out to the terrace. The air kissed her skin with cool clarity, the scent of pine and sea salt sharper, richer—like the world had slipped into high-definition. Every color seemed bolder, every sound etched in crystal.

The world smelled different. Brighter. Deeper.