Page 62

SIXTY-TWO

BANE

I slam the door to my father’s study—my study now—and lock it behind us. The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot, ricocheting off leather-bound books and mahogany panels.

It’s a declaration. A line drawn.

The world outside this door doesn’t exist anymore. Not the inheritance. Not my venomous family downstairs. Not the years I spent hating my father while he plotted to tear apart the only good thing I’ve ever had.

There’s only Moira.

Moira, who didn’t leave me. Moira, who was fucking kidnapped . Moira, who sacrificed herself to protect the people she loves.

I want to hunt down every person who touched her. I want to make them bleed. I want to set this whole fucking estate on fire and dance in the ashes of my father’s legacy.

But Moira is watching me with those eyes that see everything—that always have—and I force myself to breathe.

“Take off your clothes,” I say, my voice barely controlled. “All of them.”

Her breath catches, and her eyes widen just slightly before narrowing again, that familiar spark of defiance igniting. “Why?”

“Because I need to see every inch of you.” I step closer, close enough to feel the heat of her but not touching. Not yet. “I need to make sure they didn’t leave a single mark on you.”

“I’m fine. I swear.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I promise, voice dark with certainty. “And kiss every perfect part of you.”

She shivers. I watch it travel down her spine, watch the way her pupils dilate and her lips part on a shaky exhale.

“But this isn’t a command, Moira.” I keep my voice even now despite the maelstrom inside me. “I don’t want you naked because you think you owe me. Or because you feel like you have to prove something.”

Her chin lifts. “What if I want to?”

I step closer, letting her feel just how much I want it. “Then take off your clothes.”

She doesn’t move right away. She’s still measuring me and trying to decide if this is the right choice. A kiss is one thing, but is she ready to give herself completely to me again?

The old Moira would have already been naked and halfway across the desk. This new Moira thinks before she leaps.

I love the measured calculation just as much as the wildfire.

Because when she finally moves, it’s deliberate. She kicks off her shoes. Unzips her dress. Slides it down her body until it pools at her feet. Finally, she stands before me in nothing but black lace underwear, vulnerable and exquisite.

“All of it,” I remind her, my voice rougher now.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she unhooks her bra, letting it fall away. She hooks her thumbs in her panties and slides them down, never breaking eye contact.

I can’t hide how she makes me breathless.

And then she’s bare before me. Completely exposed.

Mine.

God, she’s beautiful. Still Moira.

I let my gaze travel over every inch of her. Her skin is unblemished except for the scars I already know, the ones I’ve traced with my tongue in the dark hours of the night.

“Turn around,” I command softly but firmly.

She does, slowly, arms wrapped loosely around her middle. The pale curve of her spine, the little dimples at the base, the birthmark on her right hip—it’s all exactly as I remember. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“They didn’t hurt you.”

It’s half question, half statement.

“No.” She turns back to face me. “Not physically.”

The implication hangs between us. The mental damage. The trauma. The way she’s had to rebuild herself in my absence.

I close the distance between us in two strides, pulling her against me, one hand tangling in her wild curls, the other pressing into the small of her back. I want to devour her. I want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

“I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight,” I growl, my mouth at her ear. “I should have known he’d try something.”

“You couldn’t have.” Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders.

I pull back just enough to catch her gaze. “No more secrets between us. Not ever again. Promise me.”

Something shifts in her eyes—a flicker of uncertainty. “I don’t want to make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

She’s being honest. The old Moira would have promised me anything just to feel my body against hers again. This new Moira understands her limitations. Respects them.

I brush my thumb across her lower lip. “I’ve never expected perfection from either of us. Just promise that you’ll try, and I’ll do the same.”

She nods, solemn. “I promise.”

Fuck, I love her honesty.

I kiss her then, finally, desperately.

My hands roam her bare skin, relearning every curve, every dip, every place that makes her gasp against my mouth. She clings to me, her body arching into mine like she can’t bear any space to exist between us.

When our lips break apart, both of us panting, I press my forehead to hers.

“I’ve missed you,” I repeat. I know I already told her, but the words feel pathetically small against the enormity of what I’ve felt these past weeks.

“I missed you too.” Her voice breaks on the words. “Every fucking day.”

I should go slow. I should be gentle. She’s been through hell. She’s been fucking medicated. I should treat her like glass.

But then her hands are at my belt, her eyes wild with need, and I know?—

She needs this as much as I do.

Still, I capture her wrists, pinning them behind her back with one hand. With the other, I tilt her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“Not like this,” I say, voice rough with restraint. “Not quick and desperate.”

She trembles in my grip. “Bane, please?—”

“No.” I tighten my hold just slightly. “I’ve spent weeks thinking I’d lost you forever. I’ve grieved you. I’ve fucking raged over you. And now I have you back.” I lower my mouth to her ear, letting my breath warm her skin. “I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to worship every inch of you until you’re begging. Until you’re screaming my name. Until you remember exactly who you belong to.”

Her pupils dilate so wide her eyes look nearly black. “I never forgot.” The words are barely audible.

And then she sinks down, graceful and fluid, her knees hitting the thick carpet. Her gaze never leaves mine, and I have to fight for control. I was the one who said I didn’t want this quick and desperate, but?—

My Moira. On her knees. For me.

The sight nearly undoes me.

I slide my fingers into her hair, cradling her head in my palm. “You have no idea how often I’ve dreamed of this.” My voice is hoarse with want. “How many nights I woke up reaching for you.”

She leans into my touch like a cat, eyes closing briefly. “I used to pretend you were still there, too,” she whispers. “On the bad days. I’d wrap myself in that hoodie you left at my place and pretend you were holding me.”

Something in my chest cracks open. “You’re never going to need to pretend again,” I promise, fierce and certain. “I’m not letting you go. Not ever.”

Her hands move to my belt again, and this time, she undoes it slowly, deliberately, never rushing despite the need I can feel thrumming through her body.

When she frees me, her breath catches, and the sound goes straight to my cock.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” she whispers, her hands sliding up my thighs as my pants sink to the floor. “About you. About us.”

I brush a curl from her face, gentler than I thought myself capable of being in this moment. “Tell me what you need, dove.”

Her eyes flick up to mine, and there’s a vulnerability there I’ve never seen before. “I need to know it’s real. That you still want me. Even like this.”

Even medicated. Even different. Even with the highs and lows smoothed out into something less chaotic.

I cradle her face in my hands. “I told you, I just want you , Moira. Not just the parts that are easy or fun or wild. All of you.”

Something shifts in her expression—relief, maybe, or resolution. And then she takes my cock in her mouth, and all coherent thought dissolves.

Oh fuck. The wet heat of her mouth. The barest scrape of her teeth. The flutter of her throat as she takes me deeper and hums.

I groan, my head falling back, my hand moving to tighten in her hair. She moves with purpose, with devotion, her nails digging into my thighs.

When I feel myself getting too close, I pull her back. “No. Not yet.”

I help her to her feet, relishing the flush on her cheeks, the swell of her lips. “Not until I’ve tasted you, too.”

I lift her onto the massive oak desk, shoving aside papers and pens without a care. Let them fall. Let the whole fucking world burn. Nothing matters but the woman in front of me.

I drop to my knees between her legs, pushing her thighs apart, exposing her pink, perfect cunt to my gaze. She’s already wet.

Mine.

I dive in without preamble or gentleness. I devour her like a starving man, my tongue flat against her clit, my hands gripping her thighs to keep them spread wide. She cries out, back arching, fingers tangling in my hair.

“Bane—fuck?—”

I growl against her, the vibration making her gasp. I suck her clit between my lips, flicking my tongue against it as I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her?—

“Oh my god?—”

There.

She comes apart on my tongue, her thighs trembling and her cries echoing off the walls. I don’t stop. I keep going, relentless, dragging her through one orgasm straight into another. She writhes above me, her hands alternating between pushing me away and pulling me closer.

“Too much,” she gasps, voice broken. “Bane, I can’t?—”

I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, my lips slick with her arousal.

“You can.” My voice is dark, commanding. “And you will. Because I say so.”

Her pupils dilate even further. She swallows hard, then nods, surrendering.

I dive back in, adding a third finger, stretching her, preparing her. By the time I rise to my feet, she’s a trembling, incoherent mess. Her skin flushed. Her eyes glazed with lust.

Perfect .

I shed the rest of my clothes, never taking my eyes off her. When I’m naked, I step between her legs again, sliding my cock through her wetness, teasing just the head of my cock at her entrance.

“Tell me you’re mine,” I demand, voice rough.

Her gaze locks with mine, clear and certain despite the haze of pleasure. “I’m yours.” She wraps her legs around my waist, drawing me closer. “I’ve always been yours.”

I thrust into her in one swift, deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation. She’s tight, so fucking tight. Like her body has forgotten the shape of me.

I’ll remind it.

I set a brutal pace, fucking her hard and deep. The desk creaks beneath us. She clings to me, nails now digging into my shoulders, leaving marks I’ll wear proudly. I want to be marked by her. I want everyone to know I belong to this woman just as much as she belongs to me.

“I love you,” I growl into her neck. “I fucking love you, Moira.”

She gasps, clenching around me. “I love you too. God, Bane, I love you.”

The words send me over the edge. I come with a shout, emptying myself inside her, marking her in the most primal way possible. She follows a heartbeat later, her body arching against mine, her cunt milking every last drop from me.

We collapse together, sweat-slick and panting. I cradle her against my chest, her head tucked under my chin.

Her breath is warm against my skin and for the first time in weeks, I feel whole.

I carry her to the leather sofa in the corner, settling her in my lap. She curls against me, boneless and sated, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest.

“I thought I’d never have this again,” she murmurs. “You. Us.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head. “There will always be us.”

She shifts, looking up at me with those eyes that have haunted my dreams. “Even with everything changing? You inheriting all this?” She gestures vaguely at the opulent room. “Me being... different now?”

I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. “The money doesn’t change anything. We’ll use it to do good. To build something better than my father ever could. And as for you being different...” I tilt her chin up, making sure she’s looking me in the eyes when I say this. “You’re still Moira. Still the woman who challenges me, who drives me fucking crazy, who makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. The core of who you are hasn’t changed.”

She bites her lip. “But what if... what if the meds dull everything too much? What if I’m never as fun or exciting as I was before?”

The vulnerability in her voice breaks my heart. I pull her closer, cradling her face in my hands.

“You’re it for me, Moira. The beginning and the end. My fucking salvation.”

She laughs softly, the sound warming me from the inside out. “That’s blasphemous, Father.”

I grin, my hand sliding up her thigh. “Wait until you hear what else I plan to do to you tonight.”

She shivers, her body already responding to my touch. “Tell me.”

I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I’m going to take you to the bedroom—our bedroom—now.”

Her breath catches. “But what about… everyone downstairs?”

“I’ll tell them to text me their answer. I’ve got more important things to attend to.”

“Like what?” She arches an eyebrow sexily at me.

I tug her closer. “Like laying you out on that massive four-poster bed and fucking you in every way I’ve been dreaming about for the past six weeks.”

“That sounds... thorough.”

“Oh, it will be.” I nip at her earlobe, relishing her gasp. “By morning, there won’t be a single doubt in your mind about who you belong to.”

She tilts her head, giving me better access to her neck. “And who’s that?”

I growl against her skin. “Say it.”

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just hard enough to send a spark of pleasure-pain down my spine. “You,” she breathes. “I belong to you, Bane.”

Satisfaction rumbles in my chest. I stand, lifting her effortlessly in my arms. She curls into me, trusting, yielding in a way the old Moira rarely did.

But as we reach the door, she suddenly stiffens, pulling back to meet my gaze.

“Just so we’re clear,” she says, eyes glinting with that familiar spark of defiance, “you also belong to me. And I plan to stake my claim just as thoroughly.”

I laugh, deep and genuine, feeling something tight in my chest finally release.

There she is. My Moira. Still wild. Still fierce. Still perfectly, gloriously mine .

I carry her through the door, toward our future, leaving the ghosts of the past behind us.