Page 47 of Held-

“You gonna fall apart for me again, baby?”

“Yes,” I gasp.

“That’s right,” he growls. “Break for me.”

And I do. Loud, feral, helpless. Another orgasm crashes through me harder than the first, stealing sound from my throat and thought from my head. I can feel him losing it too, his rhythm unraveling, his jaw tight, every muscle locked.

He thrusts one last time and holds himself there, deep inside, groaning my name like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

When it’s over, he collapses beside me, dragging me into his chest, still breathing hard.

The room is silent, save for the sound of our bodies cooling, the mess we made between us still warm.

He kisses the top of my head and mutters, “Guess I found something worth believing in.”

BRAYDEN

I waketo the unfamiliar weight of a woman’s body pressed against mine. Not just any woman.Her.

For a moment, I lie completely still, convinced that if I move, she’ll vanish. That last night was just another fucked up dream my brain cooked up to punish me.

But she’s warm. Solid. Real. Her dark hair spills across my chest, catching the thin strips of morning light sneaking through the blinds. One of her legs is thrown over mine, her breathing slow and steady against my skin.

Cece. In my bed. Wearing nothing but the marks I left on her.

Jesus Christ.

I’ve had women. More than I probably deserve. But waking up with her tucked against me, fitting there with an ease that unsettles me, feels like something entirely different—something I was never meant to cross into.

I should get up. Make coffee. Put some distance between us before she wakes and reality hits. Before she remembers who I am and starts regretting every moment of last night.

Instead, I pull her in closer. Her scent hits me, sweet and warm, tangled with sex and my own skin. She smells like mine.

Fuck.

She stirs against me with a soft little sound that curls straight down my spine. My body reacts immediately, pressing hard against her thigh. She feels it. I know she does.

Her lips curl into a smile against my chest before her eyes even open.

“Good morning,” she murmurs. The sleepy rasp in her voice does dangerous things to me.

“Morning,” I manage, trying to keep my voice neutral. Like I wake up with her every day. Like this isn't reshaping everything I thought I knew.

When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are clear. No regret. No panic. Just Cece—looking at me as though I matter.

“You’re thinking too loud,” she says, stretching against me with lazy confidence. The shift of her body sends warmth sliding across my skin, and I have to steel myself.

“Just wondering if you’re having second thoughts,” I admit, because there’s no point in pretending otherwise.

She props herself up on one elbow, hair falling in a curtain around her face as she studies me. The sheet slips down, exposing the curve of her breast, marked with faint bruises from my mouth. Pride and a deep, unsettling satisfaction curls through me at the sight.

“Are you?” she asks.

I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “Fuck no.”

Her smile is slow, satisfied. “Good.” She leans down and presses her lips to mine, the ease of it making it feel as though this has always been ours. “Because I’m not either.”

Relief hits me harder than it should. I slide my hand into her hair, holding her there for another kiss, deeper this time. She makes that little sound again, the one that makes me want to bury myself inside her all over again. My hand slides down her back, tracing the curve of her spine.