Page 167 of Endgame

With my free hand, I drag her closer to me, needing to feel every inch of her. Needing her, period.

Dammit, how could I have been so wrong about her?

I mistook her silence and scornful looks for snobbery.

All of us had.

ButIshould’ve known better. Should’ve looked deeper into it.

Guilt squeezes my chest.

Seeking comfort, I bury my face deeper into Aurora’s hair. An ounce of warmth seeps through my bones.

Warmth I don’t deserve.

One I’m taking anyway.

Her essence. Her soft skin.

Her breasts that fit so well in my palms. I cup one of them, holding her and rolling her nipple between my fingers.

So. Fucking. Perfect.

My cock hardens, pressed between her ass cheeks.

I need more. To apply enough pressure to arouse it without waking her up.

My wife.

Even when I resented her and everything she stood for, I wanted her. My attraction to her is as alive as I am at this moment.

As feral. As carnal.

Stripped down to my baser instincts, I grind my hips into her.

I don’t love her. Can’t love anyone. But something has awakened inside me.

This thing that’s beating in my chest. My heart.

I’m connected to her.

Her spirit. Her obedience. How she fights, then lets go.

She’s my responsibility.

She’s mine.

A groan reverberates in my chest as I slide my hand down to cup her other breast. Massage her other nipple. It peaks from my touch. From the gentle grazing of my fingertips.

She doesn’t have to be awake to drive me out of my mind. I’m already gone. I’m the sick fuck who gets hard just from watching her while she sleeps.

The obsessed man who can’t help but touch her.

I spit on my hand, rub it on my cock, and line myself up to her cunt. A slight tilt of my hips, of adjusting my throbbing length, and the head slides in.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe out.

She’s tight and hot, taking the tip of my cock so fucking well.