Page 320 of Let Me In

I don't flinch from it.

I love it. Love her like this. Soft, open, still flushed from pleasure and trust.

When I finish, I press a kiss to her inner thigh. Then higher.

Just above the place I worshiped with my body, the place that still holds the heat of us.

"Perfect," I whisper, voice hoarse with awe.

"Every inch of you."

Then I slide the blanket down a little more, the soft cotton brushing over her skin like a breath, revealing her inch by inch. The backs of my fingers follow, slow and reverent, catching on the warmth left behind. She shifts under the weight of it—of me—her breath a quiet tremor in the hush between us.

“Turn over for me, baby,” I say quietly.

Her breath catches—hitches in her throat like a held note.

But she does. Slowly. Trustingly. Her body shifts, a yielding motion born not of obedience, but of something deeper. Ofsurrender. Of belief. A breath leaves her as she moves, not quite a sigh, but the kind of exhale that says: I’m yours. I trust you to hold me through this.

And she does.

Slow. Trusting.

And when she settles on her belly, I lower the covers to just below her hips.

I can see it all now.

The faint flush still warming her skin from earlier—rose-gold and soft, like the memory of my palm branded in warmth.

The places my hand lingered are still tender beneath my gaze. I trace one with my thumb, feel the faint heat, the slight swell. The way the skin rises to meet me, not in pain, but in memory.

A mark. A map.

A vow.

Left reminders.

Marks not of harm—

But of belonging. Of anchoring. Of being held exactly right.

Not shame. Not punishment.

But structure.

Safety.

Love.

Left not to wound—but to whisper: I see you. I claim you. You're mine to protect.

I brush the backs of my fingers over her curves, slow and reverent, letting the heat of her skin meet the coolness of mine. Her breath catches, and she arches faintly into the touch—just enough to tell me she feels safe, claimed, held. My hand curves with her, memorizing the softness, the shape that’s mine to protect.

She exhales like she’s been holding something in.

“I gave you a lot,” I say softly.

She nods against the pillow.