“I don’t like it,” I blurt out.
“You don’t have to like it, but you have to accept it because it’s what we do to earn money, and it won’t be changing anytime soon.” His voice is firm.
I look around the room, considering his words. Who am I to come back into his world and tell him what he shouldn’t be doing? He’s a different person now. He accepts me the way I am. I should accept him as well.
“I’m sorry for judging you and the MC.” The butterfly painting on the wall captures my gaze. I can’t help but ask, “Why is there a butterfly painting here? It seems out of place.” As I fixate on the intricate details of the artwork, a sense of awe washes over me. “It’s truly extraordinary.”
Looking closely, the butterfly isn’t perfect. Its wings are damaged, and it’s missing scales.
“I had a young local artist paint it for me.”
My eyes bulge. It looks like it’s from someone who has been painting all their life. “How young?”
His hand comes to his chin. “When he did this, he was in high school. His name is Jackson. He tattoos now. If you see murals around Crown Village, they’re from him.”
“He’s gifted. But wait, why did you ask him to paint a butterfly?”
A thoughtful look crosses his face. “You don’t know?”
My brows furrow. “Should I?”
“It was my reminder of you.”
My lip trembles as I look at the broken wing again.
He sits up and leans in closer. I can feel his warm breath on my neck. “Beautiful...” He places a soft kiss on the bend of my neck, making me shiver. “Survivor...” Another lingering kiss. “Mine.” His voice is thick with lust.
I turn to him. His expression is dark.
“Yours,” I whisper. The connection we share is soul deep, and no matter how much time has passed, it hasn’t changed a thing.
He cradles my face and his mouth is on mine in an instant, making my eyes lazily drift closed. His lips are soft and greedy. When I part mine, his tongue slides in, taking... taking and taking. Heat gathers between my legs. He leans over me. His weight pushes me down on the bed, though our lips never break away.
He rises and I whimper at the loss of contact, but then his hand goes to my shorts. He unbuttons and I lift my hips. He yanks them down, and then my thong. I’m breathless. My heart’s pounding in out-of-control beats.
His hands skim my hips before he grasps my shirt and shoves it and my bra up to reveal my breasts. Desire swims through my veins, but when his mouth wraps around my nipple and sucks, the desire morphs into need, creating a deep ache below. He lifts my shirt over my head and unclasps my bra. His eyes rake over me, the heat of his gaze making me feel sexy.
When he sits up, I watch him yanking his shirt off over his head. My eyes greedily roam over every muscle and every scar. He unbuttons his jeans next. The sound of his zipper lowering fills the room alongside my beating heart and heavy breaths. He kicks his jeans off. His eyes are wild and hold no control.
I open my legs wide, welcoming him. He crawls up, peppering kisses up body. He places two tender kisses over the scars on my thigh, then over my stomach. I embrace the heat and weight of his body pressing into mine as he moves, placing soft kisses between my breasts and up my throat. He slips his hand between us to reach my folds. A deep husky sound escapes his throat when he feels how ready I am for him.
He eagerly spreads my legs wider. The tip of his cock pushes in, forcing a harsh breath from my lips. I feel myself stretching for him, then he thrusts all the way in. He seeks my mouth and kisses me again. His tongue swirls with mine, a mixture of tenderness and passion.
He pulls out almost entirely, then drives inside of me with a guttural groan. I grip his shoulders before he thrusts again. His pace quickens.
“Say my name. Scream it for me.”
The sound of slapping skin ricochets off the bedroom walls.
“Yes,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
A sheen of sweat covers his skin as he mercilessly drives into me.
“Knox, harder,” I beg.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as his thrusts become harder and more and more frantic. As he inches back, my eyelids flutter closed at the building pressure within me.
“Zara, open your eyes,” he growls breathlessly. “Keep them open. Look at me.”
