Page 25

"Yes, ma'am."

I take over, unbuttoning slowly, watching Isabella's face more carefully than I've ever watched any business negotiation. My fingers tremble slightly—a vulnerability I'd never allow in the boardroom. This isn't just undressing. It's revealing a secret she isn't aware I've kept from her.

Her eyes follow each newly exposed inch of skin with hungry anticipation, but as the shirt falls open, revealing what lies beneath, that hunger transforms into something else entirely. Her sharp intake of breath is audible in the silence between us.

"Holy shit." Her hands hover inches from my skin, as if afraid to touch. "When did you... get this done?"

I guide her fingers to the compass design over my heart. "Started in boarding school. The day I turned eighteen. This was first."

Her touch is electric, sending goosebumps across my skin as she traces the sacred geometry and Celtic knots. "And your parents never—"

"Never saw. Never will." I shrug the shirt off completely, turning to reveal the empty birdcage on my shoulder blade. "My private rebellion. Something they couldn't control."

"The compass," she murmurs, her fingertips lingering over my heart. "Always searching for direction." Her eyes meet mine with an understanding that steals my breath. "For freedom?"

When I nod, she steps back and rolls up her right sleeve. My heart stutters as dark ink emerges against her pale skin—a compass rose, its needle pointing true north.

"You..." My voice breaks as I trace the familiar pattern, identical to the one I'd placed around her neck when we were teens. "When?"

"My eighteenth birthday." Her voice softens with memory. "After your mother took the necklace. I needed something they couldn't steal."

I press my lips to her tattoo, feeling her pulse race beneath the ink. She shivers, her free hand finding my shoulder for balance.

"The empty birdcage," she whispers, moving behind me, her breath warm against my skin. "The door's open, but the cage remains."

The understanding in her voice cuts straight to my core. She always could see the parts of me I tried to hide.

"If I'd known you were hiding this walking art fantasy under those fancy suits," she says, her voice turning playful even as her hands continue their maddening exploration, "I'd have stripped you sooner."

A grin tugs at my lips.

"The Celtic knots," she continues, tracing the patterns across my chest. "Endless loops, no beginning, no end. Representing—"

"Destiny," I finish roughly, watching desire darken her eyes to forest green. "Or chains, depending how you look at it."

"Which is it for you?" She presses her compass-marked arm deliberately against my chest, right over my own.

"Maybe neither." I capture her mouth in a kiss that tastes like surrender and claiming all at once. "Maybe it's just us finding our way back to each other. Like we were always meant to."

Her clothes join mine on the floor in a desperate flurry, and suddenly there's nothing but skin against skin. The first press of her softness against my hardness draws a groan from deep in my chest.

"I've missed you, Red," I breathe against her throat, my hands mapping the curves I've dreamed about many times. "Every part of you."

Something vulnerable and fierce flashes in her eyes. "I missed you too."

She sighs my name as I lay her back on the bed, the sound a mixture of surrender and demand that makes my blood burn. I have to pause, drinking in the sight of her spread out before me—all cream skin and fire hair against white sheets.

"You're staring again," she whispers, a blush creeping down her neck.

"How could I not?" I trail kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, tasting the salt of her skin. "Do you know how many nights I've dreamed of this? Of you?"

Her fingers weave into my hair as I move lower, nails scraping my scalp. "Tell me."

"Every night." I mark each word with a kiss, moving down her body. "You haunted me, Red. Drove me crazy."

She pulls me back to her mouth with sudden urgency.

"Show me," she demands against my mouth. There's no hesitation in her voice. Just raw need and a challenge that makes my cock throb.

I pin her beneath me, my body caging hers, watching desire darken her eyes to forest green. "How do you want it, Red?" The words come out as a growl.

Her answering smile is pure sin. "I want you," she purrs, spreading her legs in blatant invitation. "to show me what fifteen years of dreaming has taught you, Sainty."

A groan tears from my throat as I look down at her, all pale skin and freckles in the morning light.

Her breasts rise with each quick breath, nipples hard and begging for my attention.

My gaze travels lower, following the constellation of freckles down her stomach to where red curls guide my eyes to her center, already glistening with need.

"Fuck, you're perfect," I breathe before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. She arches into me, desperate for contact, and I begin a slow descent down her body. Each kiss is a claim, each touch a promise. Her skin tastes like salt and desire, and I'm starving for more.

I take my time with her breasts, drawing one nipple into my mouth while my thumb circles the other. The sound she makes—somewhere between a gasp and my name—shoots straight to my cock. Her hands fist in my hair, trying to direct me where she wants me most, but I resist.

"Patience, Red," I murmur against her skin. "I've waited fifteen years for this feast."

"Ares," she whimpers, her hips lifting in a silent plea. "Please..."

I continue my journey south, marking her hip bone with my teeth, soothing the sting with my tongue.

Her thighs tremble as I settle between them, breathing in her scent—sweet and musky, and I love it.

The sight of her spread out before me, wet and wanting, surpasses every fantasy I've ever conjured—a reality more intoxicating than my most fevered dreams could have imagined.

"You're beautiful," I whisper before I lick her, a slow, deliberate stroke that makes her buck against my mouth.

She fucking purrs like a cat, her hands gripping the sheets as she arches into my touch. "More," she demands, her voice rough with need.

I chuckle against her, the vibration drawing out another purr. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

Her eyes flash open, locking onto mine with a fiery challenge. "Only for you."

That's all the invitation I need. I dive in, licking, sucking, devouring her like a man possessed. Her taste is intoxicating, and I can't get enough. My tongue finds her clit, circling it with merciless precision, drawing out a string of curses from deep within her.

"Fuck, Ares," she gasps, her hips moving in perfect sync with my mouth. "God, your tongue..."

I hum in agreement, the vibration against her clit making her cry out. "Best fucking pussy I've ever tasted," I growl before sliding two fingers inside her. Her body clenches around me, her sounds becoming more urgent, more desperate.

I watch her, transfixed, as her body responds to my every move. Her breath comes in short, ragged gasps, her eyes flutter closed, and her head rolls back as she abandons herself to the sensation. She's a fucking goddess.

"More," she demands again, her voice barely more than a whimper. "Harder."

I obey instantly, curling my fingers deeper inside her, seeking that hidden spot.

When I find it, her back arches off the bed, a gasp tearing from her throat.

I add my tongue back to her slick heat, circling relentlessly, and feel her begin to fracture—thighs trembling against my shoulders, fingers digging into my scalp.

Her body tenses like a bowstring pulled too tight, a moment of perfect suspension before she shatters completely, my name ripping from her lips like a fucking prayer, raw and reverent and desperate all at once.

I ride out her orgasm, my fingers still inside her, my mouth moving gently against her clit, drawing out every shudder, every cry. When she comes down, her body limp and sated beneath me, I press one last kiss to her inner thigh before looking up at her.

"Good?" I ask, a smug grin playing on my lips.

She opens one eye, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. "Better than good," she murmurs, reaching out to tangle her fingers in my hair. "But I'm not nearly done with you, Saint."

And with that, she pulls me back up her body, her mouth finding mine in a searing kiss that promises so much more to come.

My hands roam freely over her body, tracing familiar yet somehow new curves.

Her skin is flushed, warm, and responsive to every touch.

I'm intoxicated by her scent, by the feel of her, by the unrestrained passion that burns between us.

The urgency in her eyes mirrors my own desperation to make up for lost time, to reconnect in a way that sears every doubt from our minds.

She reaches down, her hand wrapping firmly around my cock. "Fucking hell, you're big, Sainty," she murmurs against my lips.

I grin against her mouth, the heat of her words sending a jolt of anticipation through me. "Perfect size for you," I counter.

Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of challenge and hunger. "Lie down," she commands, a playful authority in her tone. "I want control when slaying that big thing."

A chuckle escapes me as I comply, lowering myself onto my back. The sight of her straddling me sends a wave of pure need coursing through my veins. She reaches for the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a condom and expertly rolling it on.

"Fuck," I hiss as she slowly slides herself onto me, her lips parting in a gasp. "You're so tight."

"And you're fucking thick," she retorts, a faint smile playing on her lips as she leans forward, her hands tracing the ink on my chest.

"But perfect for you," I growl, my hands caressing her thighs as she takes me in fully, her body adjusting to me like a flower opening under the sun. The sensation of her, slick and hot, is almost unbearable.

We both groan when she moves, her hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that's as natural as it is intoxicating.

"Being inside you is fucking heaven, Red."

She leans down, her lips finding mine in a passionate, demanding kiss. My hand slides up to cup the back of her head, pulling her closer as I pump my hips up to meet hers. She whimpers into my mouth, the sound driving me wild.

"Ares," she gasps, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The sound of her voice, the feel of her body, the taste of her skin—it all combines into a sensory overload that threatens to undo me completely.

When I feel her flutter around me, I stop pumping, needing to see her, to watch every second of her unraveling.

"Look at me," I rasp, my voice shattering with need. Her eyes lock with mine as she rests her forehead against mine, our breath mingling in the narrow space between us.

"Ride me, and let me see you shatter, Red."

She moves again, desperate now, chasing her release. Her rhythm grows erratic, hips rolling and grinding against mine with an urgency that steals my breath. Each movement sends lightning through my veins, pushing me closer to the edge of control.

The sight of her—flushed and frantic above me—is pure art. Her head tilts back slightly, exposing the elegant column of her throat where my mark blooms against her pale skin. I reach up, tracing the bruise with reverent fingers, feeling her pulse thunder beneath my touch.

Sweat gleams on her collarbone, catching the morning light like diamonds. Her hair falls around us in a curtain of fire, creating a private world where nothing exists but this connection, this moment, this woman who has always been mine.

"Ares," she gasps, my name breaking on her lips. "I'm—" The words dissolve into a moan as her inner walls flutter around me.

Just before that final crest hits, her eyes lock with mine. The vulnerability there—raw and endless as the ocean—robs my breath. Something shifts in her gaze, a dam breaking behind those green depths.

"I never stopped—"

She doesn't finish. Doesn't need to. The words hang suspended between us, unspoken yet deafening in their clarity.

I never stopped missing you.

I never stopped longing for you.

I never stopped wanting you.

I never stopped... loving you.

Each possibility ignites another flame inside me, until I'm burning alive with fifteen years of denied truth.

Something primal erupts inside me. A growl tears from my throat as I surge upward, flipping our positions in one fluid movement. Her back hits the mattress, eyes wide with surprise that quickly melts into desire as I drive into her with renewed desperation.

"Neither did I," I confess against her throat, the words I've held back finally breaking free. "Not for a single fucking day."

Her body arches beneath mine, a sob of release tearing from her lips as she shatters completely. The sight of her coming undone beneath me, combined with the weight of our shared confession, snaps the last thread of my control.

My hands grip her hips hard enough to bruise as I thrust one final time, pouring everything I am into her. The pleasure is almost unbearable, radiating from where we're joined to the tips of my fingers, the soles of my feet, leaving me shattered and remade.

Her unfinished confession reverberates between us—those three words we're both still too scared to fully voice. But I hear them anyway, in the way she trembles against me, in how her fingers dig into my shoulders like she's afraid I'll disappear.

And I answer in the way I hold her—like something precious finally returned to me after years of searching in the dark.

After I collapse beside her, I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as aftershocks ripple through both our bodies. My lips find her temple, tasting salt and satisfaction as we slowly drift back to reality.

In the aftermath, as our sweat cools and our hearts find their rhythm again, I know with bone-deep certainty that this wasn't just sex. This was a reclamation. Redemption.

The healing of wounds years in the making.

Her body fits against mine, perfectly sculpted for this purpose, and the weight of her in my arms feels like the answer to a fifteen-year-old question. She's mine, and I'm never letting her go again.