Page 155 of Blackwood

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

The moment I step inside, something in my chest swells. It’s beautiful. All sleek and modern, a beautiful open concept with concrete floors, black steel beams, and soft amber lighting.

The space breathes in long, clean lines. Kitchen island with dark matte cabinets, bar stools that scream expensive, and a leather couch facing a modern fireplace that flickers low behind black glass.

My eyes catch on a painting above the mantle—stormy and abstract, mostly blacks and grays with jagged streaks of white slicing through it.

Cade. It’s his. I’d know his style anywhere.

I walk farther in, fingers grazing the edge of the couch, the back of the bar stool, the mantle. It’s all lived-in, but not messy. The way a space feels when two people are trying to make it home without saying it out loud.

I stop at the floor-to-ceiling windows and let out a quiet breath. Same skyline. Same stars. Same city pulsing beneath me.

Lex steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist like he always does. His chest is warm at my back, his breath steady against my neck.

“I always loved this view,” I whisper.

“How long’s it been?”

“Since the funeral. I tried to come back once,” my throat tightens. “I had a full-blown panic attack before I even made it past the lobby.”

Lex rests his chin on my shoulder, “If you want to go up there, I’ll be right with you. Every step. We’ll face it together, baby.”

I turn in his arms, look up at him. “I do… but not right now.” I bite my lip. “I want to do something else first.”

“Thank fucking God.” Lex says as he lifts me off the floor and carries me to the bedroom. Kissing me the whole way there.

He lays me down gently, the mattress dipping beneath me as his hands linger a second longer than they need to. Then he straightens, yanking his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

My eyes drag over every inch of him, those brutal arms inked with shadows, the phoenix spread between his collarbones. The sharp cut of his abs and that deep V that disappears into his shorts like it’s inviting me to sin.

“Eyes up here, baby.”

I laugh, soft and breathless, because he’s right, I’ve been caught. When I look back up, those piercing ice-blues are locked on mine, full of fire and need.

He leans in, kissing me deep, slow at first, then harder. His hands slide under my top, fingers rough and reverent as they cup my bare breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until I gasp.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mutters against my lips before lifting the shirt off me entirely and tossing it aside.

His mouth trails down my neck, sucking just hard enough to leave proof. He moves lower kissing, biting, worshiping until he reaches my breasts.

He takes his time, tongue flicking over one nipple while his fingers tease the other, switching sides until I’m writhing beneath him, breath hitched and thighs already squeezing with anticipation of what’s to come.

“Lex,” it’s barely a whisper.

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps going. His mouth glides down my stomach, slow, hot, and wet until he reaches the waistband of my shorts. He undoes the button, tugs the zipper down, andstarts peeling them off inch by inch, leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses down my hips, my thighs, and the inside of my knee.

Then he shifts, dragging his hands back up my legs. He grips my thighs and buries his face between them like a man starved.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Baby, you taste like fucking heaven.”

He’s rough with it. His tongue licking and swirling, lips sucking hard, mouth pulling moan after moan out of me like a symphony. He pushes his tongue inside me, groaning low like I’m everything he’s ever wanted.

His grip tightens, fingers digging into my thighs so hard I know I’ll bruise.

I don’t care.

My hands fly to his hair, tangling hard as I grind against his face, chasing the explosion building fast and wild. My pussy clenches tight as he shoves his tongue in deeper, his fingers find my clit, rubbing hard, fast circles until I break.