Page 95 of Forbidden Empire

I didn’t trust myself, not with the way my chest ached, or how every breath seemed to risk shattering whatever fragile thing we’d just made.

Instead, I just held him closer, refusing to let go, desperate to keep this moment whole for as long as I dared.

But I taught them. Those thoughts and emotions twisted in my skull, making me dizzy with confusion, need, and the kind of deep, aching satisfaction that lingered like a bruise.

Hours later, we crashed together in sleep, tangled up in the sheets and each other.

My pussy was still warm and full of him, his cock slick with the echo of my pleasure.

Outside, the lights of the Vegas Strip flickered through the windows, painting the dark with neon.

When morning came, the first thin slash of sunlight broke through the glass, turning everything gold.

I rolled over. Aidon was there, still sleeping, his face soft and unguarded.

His eyes were closed, his mouth slack, no hint of the ruthless, ferocious man I knew him to be. Just a man, vulnerable and beautiful in the dawn.

I rolled onto my side, letting my gaze linger on him, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest hypnotic in the dawn’s hush.

My fingers traced the lines of his torso, featherlight, savoring the quiet solace that settled between us.

Here, in this hush, there was no struggle for dominance, no silent war simmering beneath our skin. Not yet.

The day hadn’t truly begun.

Instead, we floated in that fragile space between the heat of last night’s hunger and the inevitable cold distance daylight brought. Our bodies still belonged to each other, tangled in sheets and memory.

He was still mine. I was still his.

There was nothing left between us but skin, bone, and the thunder of two hearts beating, unguarded. The usual tension, the power, the push, and pull. All of it faded away, leaving only stillness. Only an aching sweetness.

For once, my mind was quiet. All the noise, all the chaos fell silent, replaced by the simple intimacy of his warmth, his scent, his nearness.

I wanted to stay like this forever: watching him, touching him, worshipping him with my hands in the gentle morning light.

Of course, I knew it was doomed from the start. That didn’t mean I could stop myself from wanting it to last, from wanting him.

Sunlight crawled in greedy streaks over his naked body, and I let a ragged smile split across my lips.

My gaze devoured him, drinking him in inch by glorious inch. The sight of his cock shooting raw, desperate shivers through me, down to the bone.

His voice was a low, rough whisper. "Hey."

It punched through the haze of morning and snapped my gaze up to his face, sharp and electric.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I whispered back, words trembling between us, both of us holding onto the quiet like it might shatter if we moved.

His eyes flicked down, catching the way my fingertips traced over his chest, lingering on the hard lines of muscle.

He smirked, “This is new.”

My lips curled into a smile, slow and defiant, and I shook my head.

“Don’t ruin it,” I breathed, the warning raw in my throat.

He laughed, a deep, hungry sound, and caught my hand, dragging my fingers to his mouth.

His lips were hot on my skin, burning a trail into my bones.