Page 56 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)
“ C heck this out.” Louis shows me the construction photos. “They’ve finished framing the entire house. It’s going to be so pretty!”
“It’s a little too early to tell, right? The only thing I see is metal and wood.”
Louis pinches my waist, and I jolt, making the water ripple softly around us. “Boring.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“That’s what I’m saying, boring.”
I huff but press Louis’s back closer to my chest, the back of his head nestled in the crook of my throat. His wet, black hair is plastered to his face, and his cheek is stuck against mine. My cock is buried deep inside his ass.
The open doors invite in more chilly wind, rustling through the curtains, but unable to reach us because the hot water comes up to our shoulders, cocooning us blissfully.
The faint scent of the city drifts through, a mingling of rain and concrete that somehow feels comforting here.
Somewhere outside, a street violinist plays a low, haunting tune.
Paris humming to itself as if it knows we’re here.
In the corner of the hotel room stands our luggage cart, filled with bags and more after our extensive Christmas shopping. Louis has outdone himself. After he spent the first ten thousand euros, I couldn’t watch it anymore.
I’m still not used to his love for spending money, nor his spending power. The family pays me a monthly allowance, but I haven’t touched a penny of it yet. My salary is enough to pay the bills, and Louis is enough to keep me happy.
More than happy.
We started planning our home a few months ago, and judging by the daily updates he shows me, workers haven’t stopped ever since.
“It’s going to be so pretty,” Louis sighs.
“Not as pretty as you.” To prove my point, I rock upwards, making him moan.
The phone slips out of his hand and clatters to the floor.
Another blast makes the curtains flutter, dragging our gazes back to the marvelous view of the Eiffel Tower.
It sits right ahead of our hotel terrace, close enough to revel in its beauty, far enough to believe the illusion of seclusion as if we are the only ones here, in the city of love.
The city of found love and reclaimed souls.
“You are the most precious of them all.”
Louis hums, the silver bracelet flickering in the air when he brings his hand to my face and cups my cheek, thumb grazing my skin like he’s memorizing me all over again.
It’s the present I gave him when we made our relationship official, the one I kept hidden in my drawer for months, terrified he’d laugh, terrified he wouldn’t.
But when I finally slipped it on his wrist, he cried. Just once. Just enough.
He never takes it off.
“My one and only.”
“Ugh…baby…” Louis pants against my throat. The roll of his hips makes water splash out of the tub. “Keep on talking, you’re gonna make me come.”
“My chosen one.”
“Yes. You chose me.”
His hand flutters over the stars inked into his skin.
The knife is still healing, is still proud.
A promise carved. A love made permanent.
His movement makes his thighs ripple in the water.
My fingers trace its muscled dips and curves, fondling his balls while the other frantically strokes his shaft in unison with my thrusts.
“Damn right I did, sweetheart. There’s no me without you. You live inside me. You’re the vow I made beneath the stars.”
“Oh, baby…” Without warning, Louis explodes in my hand, moaning loudly as his entire body shudders. He’s got my toes curling in pleasure—the sight of him falling apart in my hands is mouthwatering.
Pulling off me, he gives me a wicked grin, then leaves the cooled water. He grabs a towel and tosses it at my head, laughing. I dry off quickly, my eyes never leaving him as he pads barefoot to the bed.
The bed is obscenely large, made up with white sheets and silver pillows. Louis curls against me with a sleepy smirk, dragging my hand over his waist. His skin is warm, slick, and still humming with pleasure. We breathe together, hearts steady. I kiss the back of his neck. No more rush. Just this.
I press my mouth to his shoulder, needing the weight of him against me. He grins, tugging me closer by the hips.
“Turn around for me.” He does, shifting with a slow, delicious stretch as I settle behind him. My hand coasts down his back, my cock hard between us, sliding into place like we were always meant to fit.
He moans as I push in. Tight, hot, perfect.
His fingers grip the sheets. I thrust slow, deep, savoring every second of it.
We move together, breath tangled, heat building.
His body sings under my hands, all velvet and fire, eyes drooping as he rocks and gasps.
His ass feels like perfection, his skin smooth and strong.
His hair brushes my face like silk threads as I press kisses on his nape and collarbone.
“I could stay inside you forever,” I pant against his throat. To me, he is. “You’re my home, sweetheart. You’re what I searched for all these years.” His entire body shudders. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” he whispers. His breath stutters on my lips, and his eyes turn glassy. Our foreheads press together while I slowly fuck him, hand squeezing his waist to keep him still. I come with curling toes, and he watches as my eyes roll back, his breath hot on mine, his lips swallowing my groans.
“You’re my home too,” he breathes.
“We’re going to build something timeless, sweetheart. Not just a house. A legacy.”
Outside, Paris glows. The Eiffel Tower flickers, its golden lights dancing across the ceiling. The future feels possible again. Ours to shape, brick by brick, kiss by kiss.
And then, before I have time to clean us up, he curls into my chest and falls asleep, making me the happiest man on earth.