Page 192 of Collide

I had no idea I was this insatiable.

I try to reclaim some semblance of dignity, rolling away for a moment of peace, only for him to tackle me back into the pillows, lips trailing down with a wicked grin.

“Alex,” I groan, half-pleading, half-laughing. “I need a break. I need food. I need—I don’t know—air?!”

He props himself up on one elbow, smirking like a man who has just discovered his new favorite hobby. “You’re cute when you beg.”

“I’m not begging,” I whimper, even as I shiver under the lazy drag of his fingers up my thigh.

“You will be,” he says simply.

And, to my complete and utter humiliation, he’s right.

By the time we finally pass out, tangled in the sheets, the fire nothing but dying embers, I have never felt more exhausted in my life. Or satisfied. Or alive.

He shifts behind me, rolling us onto our sides. One arm draped on my waist, the other under my neck, drawing me tighter against his chest like I might vanish.

His breath is warm at my ear. “Why’d you wait?”

“Wait?” I ask, my brain still a mess of thoughts.

“For sex?”

Oh.

It wasn’t a decision. Not really. I didn’t draw a line in the sand or swear anything off. It just… never happened.

Between Riley’s stories ofdud roots, Mom’s mistrust of men that stuck to me like a second skin, and then her cancer, wanting never felt like a priority.

I inhale, grounding myself in the warmth and weight of his arm as he drags his thumb across my skin.

“It wasn’t a decision,” I say slowly. “It…never felt right. Not until now.”

He’s silent for a beat. Then his fingers trail along the curve of my hip, thoughtful, almost absent.

“I’m glad it was me,” he confesses. “I hate thinking about anyone else ever getting the chance.” His voice rasps against my skin. “It’s selfish, I know. But the thought of someone else touching you—someone else making you feel like this—would drive me fucking insane.”

I don’t move. Can’t.

He brushes my hair back, presses a kiss just below my ear. “You don’t even realize what you’ve done to me, do you?”

My pulse stumbles. His voice has that edge again—low, reverent, full of something I can’t name.

“Elena,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You’vebewitchedme. Being with you—it’s the only time I can be myself. It’s freedom from the noise, the pressure, the past. I can’t escape you. You’re in my head all day—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’re thinking of me. And then at night, in my dreams…”

“Your dreams?” I whisper.

He leans in closer, eyes burning. “From the moment you collided into my life, it’s only ever been you. You’re in all of them. I think of nothing else—being with you, touching you, holding you…making love to you.”

His voice drops, almost a growl. “Älskling, I would burn the whole fucking world to keep you. To feel you beside me in the dark. To know you’re mine—not just for now, but for whatever forever we can steal. I would give anything, say anything,beanything, if it meant you’d be mine forever.”

My chest rises, tight and too full. Something turns inside me, something soft, like a key unlocking a door. My heart beats differently, and I don’t think it will ever beat the same after this.

Is this what it feels like?

Is this…love?

“Alex,” I breathe his name like a prayer. “I’ve never felt like this. You make me feel seen, you make me feel desired, sexy, confident, I…”