Page 74 of Crushed Vow

“Don’t stop,” I begged, my voice desperate, “please, don’t stop.” If he stopped now, I’d shatter, my body too far gone to survive without him.

He didn’t stop. His pace tripled, our panting filling the room, a frantic rhythm of need.

I felt it coming, the edge so close I could taste it, and I knew he was there too, his breaths ragged, his grip tightening.

My nails dug into his shoulders, my teeth sinking deeper into his neck as the orgasm hit, violent and all-consuming, ripping through me like a wildfire.

I screamed his name, my body shaking, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He growled, a primal sound that vibratedthrough the room, cumming inside me with a force that left us both trembling, his release hot and relentless.

I collapsed against him, panting, his cock still buried deep inside me, my body spent but unwilling to let go. He moved to lower me to the bed, but I clung to his neck, my arms tight, my legs wrapped around him. “Don’t,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, my lips brushing his ear. “Stay.”

He understood, his eyes softening as he crawled onto the bed, keeping me in his arms, his cock still inside me.

He lay back, positioning us so I rested on his chest, my body molded to his, our breaths syncing in the quiet.

My mind was blank, blissfully empty, the weight of our reality—Ethan, Vincent, Luca, the war—pushed aside by the warmth of him, the way he’d made me feel alive and whole, for the first time in a year.

My skin hummed, my body sweetly exhausted, and I felt sleep tugging at me, a gentle pull I didn’t fight.

“You’ll always be mine, Charlotte.” he whispered, his lips brushing my forehead, his voice a soft promise in the dark.

His thumb brushed my cheekbone, lingering like he was drawing my face in his mind.

I nodded, too tired to speak, my cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat a steady lullaby.

The pleasure still lingered in my limbs, a soft, golden ache blooming in the quiet places of my body. And as I slipped beneath the pull of sleep, cocooned in his arms, I realized something that made my chest twist—

This was the sweetest moment I’d ever known.

And I didn’t know if I’d survive when it passed.

Chapter 11

CHARLOTTE

When my eyes fluttered open, I realized I was still on Cassian’s chest.

His heartbeat was steady beneath my cheek, a rhythm I hadn’t heard in a long time. I lifted my head slowly, trying to see if he was asleep, but his eyes were open beneath the concave lenses of his glasses.

Still and unreadable.

I pulled away gently. “Hey...” I whispered, stepping off the bed.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” he replied, his voice that quiet, dangerous calm that always made me unsure whether to run or reach for him.

I paused for a second, watching him from the doorway, before I turned and went to the bathroom. Waking up next to him—after everything—should have felt like betrayal to myself. And yet, there was something dangerously comforting about it.

The water was warm against my skin, but it couldn’t wash away the storm in my chest. As the steam rose around me, so did the memories—his betrayal, the truth about my mother.

The endless years I spent searching for her.

The countless nights in that psychiatric ward, clutching to the hope that one day I’d see her again—even just once. I used to imagine it a thousand different ways: I’d look her in the eye andask if it was all true, if she really was the villain everyone claimed she was. If she had truly made Cassian and his mother’s life a living hell.

And in my mind, she always said no. In every version of that daydream, she denied it. Said they were lying. That she had suffered too, maybe even more. I’d imagined holding her, helping her heal, making up for the ten years we lost. I held on to the belief that our reunion would be our beginning again.

But no one tells you that the future you pray for can be ripped from your hands without warning.

Cassian had already decided her fate.