Page 30 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

Our lips met like a clash of storms as we stumbled up the flame-lit path, never breaking our connection.

There was nothing sweet about this kiss.

It was desperate. Filthy. Raw. Teeth caught lips—his, mine, blood blooming between us like a holy sacrament.

Tongues collided. Copper flooded our mouths.

A groan tore from his chest as he pulled me closer.

“I need you,” he growled against my mouth. “I wake up with your name on my lips and this—this ache in my chest that won’t go away unless I’m with you.”

“Then have me,” I breathed. “Until we forget what it’s like to be apart.”

He slammed me against the villa door, hands roaming, hips grinding. “I’ll never forget you,” he rasped. “You’re etched into me.”

Clothes fell in a frantic cascade, a trail of silk, torn fabric, and buttons littering marble like the remnants of restraint. Each discarded piece was a surrender. A warning. A promise.

We stumbled into the bedroom like heathens chasing ruin, not salvation. The kind of sinners who didn’t beg for forgiveness. Our limbs tangled, teeth clashed, and mouths collided in a frenzy that had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with need.

Every kiss was a violent prayer. Every touch a desperate act of worship and destruction, a holy war waged in skin and heat and gasping, ragged breaths.

His hands were fucking everywhere, gripping, scratching, claiming, like he could never get enough of me, like he was terrified I’d vanish if he let go. And mine were no better—no gentler—nails dragging across his skin, marking him, grounding me in sweat-slicked warmth, proof that he was here. Real.

I clawed at him like I could bury my dread into his skin. Like I could make him feel the raw panic howling inside me. The terror of this ending. Of waking up cold. Alone. Abandoned. Again.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, my voice cracking, body arching toward him. My aching cock desperately seeking friction.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” he growled into my collarbone, his teeth scraping across my skin like a brand.

And I believed him.

His mouth opened against me—wet, demanding, reverent and ruthless—trailing blistering kisses down my throat, across my chest, down further until my legs trembled beneath his touch.

He devoured every inch of me like he was memorizing it all, branding me onto his tongue, writing hymns of obsession with every lick, every bite, every gasp he pulled from my lungs.

“I want you to mark me,” I whispered, nails digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Make it last.”

His body trembled against mine, a low groan ripping from his chest like it cost him everything to hold back. But he didn’t. He surged forward with a snarl, dragging me down to the mattress, covering me like a force of nature—wild and beautiful.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he rasped, eyes blown black with hunger, desperation, love ? Twisted and tangled and irrevocable.

“Yes I do,” I panted, lips brushing his. “I want to feel you forever.”

And then we were lost again, locked in the kind of madness that burned cities and leveled gods. We broke ourselves open and filled the empty spaces with each other. Skin and teeth and desperate hands—hot, slick, endless.

Our bodies crashed against each other, cocks catching on each other’s heads with every thrust. With every roll of my hips, precum pooled from my slit and smeared against my abs. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more, and if the whimper that spilled from his lips was any indication, so did he.

Theo moved back just enough so I could slip my hand between us and wrap it around our lengths. In a tight, unyielding grip, he thrust up against me, saliva spilling from his kiss-bruised lips, making the slide smoother.

“Oh fuck, yes. That’s it, Sin. Oh god,” he panted. “You feel so damn good.”

Every breath was a promise. Every bruise a vow. Every moan a confession: I’d burn the world to stay in this bed. I will never let you go.

Neither of us had to say it, because we were already too far gone.

We fucked like time was dying. Like the seconds were collapsing into each other and all we had was now. Our bodies moved like they were made to find each other in every life, every timeline, every hell we were born into.

“I want you,” he breathed. “I want you even if it ruins me.”

I held his face, stared into his eyes. “Then stay with me.”

That night, we carved eternity into our skin with every kiss, every thrust, every whispered plea. Until the moon disappeared. Until the stars burned out. Until the world reminded us that dreams don’t last forever.

But for one night, we defied it. For one night, in his arms, we were infinite. And the world could have all the rest, so long as it never took him from me.

The sun burned through the gauzy curtains like judgment, harsh and unrelenting.

It cut across the room in brutal streaks, lighting up our exhausted bodies.

The sheets stuck to our skin, slick with dried sweat and cum, the remnants of the night before turning into a second skin.

Tangled limbs. Bruises like constellations. Hickies like signatures.

My muscles ached. My cock throbbed, half-hard, used. My body felt hollowed out and full at the same time. Raw. Sacred. Claimed.

I cracked an eye open and groaned when the sun stabbed straight into my skull. Theo lay beside me, one arm draped over his eyes, the other twisted in the sheets like he was still trying to hold me down. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to as he blinked, his gaze locked on me.

The silence between us was heavy, bloated with things neither of us had the courage to say.

I turned to him, watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, the bruises mottling his ribs in the shape of my hands. His jaw was dark with stubble, his lips still swollen, cut at the corner where I’d bitten down too hard. He looked like ruin. Like mine.

I wanted to say something. Anything.

But instead, I reached for my pants, peeling them off the floor with the kind of exhaustion that came after a night of endless sex and no sleep.

Every step toward the bathroom was stiff with the weight of the night still clinging to me.

The shower was quick. Just enough to wash away the stickiness, but not enough to scrub him from my skin.

He didn’t speak until I came out, toweling off. “Plane’s ready in an hour,” Theo murmured, his voice rough from lack of sleep—or from swallowing my cock deeper than he ever had before.

I nodded, too scared to speak, fearing I’d break. No plan. Just forward motion because looking back would destroy me.

We moved like strangers putting on a show for the sake of appearances. Folding our clothes. Checking bags had everything in them that we’d brought. Avoiding each other’s eyes even when our fingers brushed and heat crackled like a dying flame.

Before I knew it, our bags were packed away in the trunk of the same sleek black car that had collected us, and we were slipping into the back seats, the cool leather and air con a welcome change from the constant suffocating heat.

The journey to the airport was quiet. Tense. The hum of tires on asphalt and gravel the only sound between us. His hand rested on the small middle seat only inches from mine. Close enough to touch but he never closed the gap. It was like I could see him slowly rebuilding his walls brick by brick.

The flight was worse. A coffin with wings.

He sat across from me until we were at cruising altitude, then excused himself to the bedroom to make a call.

When he returned, he was in a sharp suit, white shirt starched to perfection, posture controlled, eyes hidden behind dark glasses as the world screamed by beneath us.

I watched him the whole time. The flick of his thumb against the armrest. The way his jaw clenched every time I shifted.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t touch. But the air between us was electric, the kind that kills before the storm even breaks.

My body still remembered him. Still ached for him. My throat was raw with unsaid things.

I love you.

I hate how much I need you.

I’d give it all up for you.

Exhaustion must have claimed me at some point. I was woken with a start as the stewardess gently rocked my shoulder and told me it was time to disembark the plane and that she hoped I enjoyed my trip. Unable to form any words, I stumbled from the plane and slipped into Theo’s SUV.

Slouched in the front seat, I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes so I could hide. I didn’t want to see the questions in his eyes when he eventually looked at me. So instead, I stayed silent and lost myself in the memories that would be etched into my mind for the rest of my life.

The car pulled up to the curb outside my apartment block. My fingers curled around the door handle, but I hesitated. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the cold settling into his bones. The armor sliding back into place.

“Sin,” he said, voice low. Controlled.

I turned, my chest already cracking open. He reached out and cupped my face, just like last night. But it was different now. Slower. Measured. A closing of a chapter instead of a desperate claw to hold it open.

His hand slid to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, anchoring us together like I was the only thing left tethering him to anything human.

He leaned in, his breath brushing my lips, his eyes boring into mine with that unspoken fury, that unsaid ache.

“Then let’s make that trip count,” he murmured.

Our lips didn’t meet this time. There was no storm. Just silence. Just the weight of goodbye. He let go first, leaned over me and opened my door. The cold rushed in. And just like that, I was gone.