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CHAPTER55

DINARA

ONE WEEK LATER

His fingers trace slow,soothing strokes up my back, grounding me in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

I keep thinking about the way he threw himself between Gregory and that bullet, unable to forget how he tried to protect my brother. How he took the hit without hesitation. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve lost him too.

A shudder runs through me at the thought.

I prop myself up on my elbow, gazing down at him, love swelling inside me so fiercely it’s almost unbearable. My fingers skim the sharp lines of his face, unable to stop staring.

He groans, catching my wrist, his grip firm, as though my touch alone unravels him.

A spark ignites deep inside me, sharp and consuming.

“I love you,” I whisper, the words a promise for all the days I didn’t say it when I wanted to.

His eyes darken, hunger flickering through them. “Fuck, Dinara.” His fingers thread into my hair, tilting my face toward his. “It makes me so hard when you say that.”

A slow smile tugs at my lips. “Does it now?”

Sliding my hand beneath the comforter, I find the proof of his arousal, stroking the hard length through his boxers. A sharp curse escapes him as his hips jerk into my touch.

I lean down, slowly cutting the distance between us until my lips brush his. His grunt deepens, his restraint shattering as he grips the back of my head, and takes me in a fiery, intoxicating kiss.

In one swift move, he flips me beneath him, sliding between my thighs, his body pressing into mine until I can feel every rigid inch of him.

A needy moan escapes me as my body bows into him, aching for more.

His palm cups my cheek, his gaze locking on to mine, raw and intense. “When I look at you, it feels like my heart’s going to give out. Because the way I love you, the way I need you…there’s nothing else like it, baby. And no matter what hell we’ve been through, I swear I’ll spend every day making sure you never have to face it alone.”

My throat tightens, tears burning behind my eyes.

“You’re never going to be alone, either. Not with me,” I whisper, the depth of everything I feel for him evident in every syllable.

His forehead presses against mine, our breaths mingling, heavy and uneven. Then he kisses me, slow at first. But it doesn’t stay that way.

Our clothes disappear in a flurry of hands and desperate need, until we’re just skin against skin—two bodies, two hearts, made of one. Because this man, this love, it’s infinite. Earth-shattering. Merciless.

He groans against my lips, his fingers slipping between my thighs, teasing, torturing.

“You’re always so wet for me,” he rasps. “And I haven’t even tasted you yet.”

Heat flares in my gut.

Before I can respond, he moves, flipping onto his back and dragging me with him. When I try to shift away so I don’t press on the spot where he was shot, he tightens his grip on my hips, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice is dark, laced with pure sin.

“Cillian, you got hit with two bullets. They may have been just grazes, but they were still friggin’ bullets. You need to be careful.”

Both of his wounds have healed, thankfully, but they’re still red and raw, and the last thing I want is for him to somehow make it worse.

“I’m fine.” His smirk is my undoing. “Now be a good girl and sit on my face.”

A sharp pulse of need slams into me.