“Look at me, Eve,” I growl, speeding up the relentless tempo. “Look at me when you fall apart.”
She shakes her head, every muscle taut as she fights the pleasure threatening to consume her. But I won’t let her resist. My fingertips find her swollen clit, circling, rubbing, relentless.
Eve’s eyes roll back, her back arching as her head falls forward. “No…” she moans, but her walls flutter around me in denial, her body rebelling against her stubbornness.
My thumb presses into her in perfect time with the thrust of my cock, and she shatters, crying out my name as her inner muscles milk me ruthlessly. I hold her tight against me, my lips seeking the pulse point on her neck, teeth scraping her skin as her climax claims her, my name on her lips like a prayer.
She’s barely come down from her peak when I roll us over again, surging back inside her with a groan. My restraint is gone, burned away in the inferno of her passion. I piston into her, driving us both higher, our bodies gleaming with sweat, the room hazy with the heat of our need. My body sings with the pleasure of her, my mind gone blurry with the intensity.
“Never enough,” she pants, raking her nails down my back, her thighs squeezing my hips.
“Never,” I agree, slamming into her with a brutal force that sends the headboard thudding against the wall. I feel the burn building, coiling tight in my lower back. My mouth finds hers, swallowing her cries as my thrusts become shorter, more erratic. “With you… always need more…”
Her hands grip my face, fingers tangling in my hair as she drags my mouth back to hers, devouring me with the same ferocity that I’m taking her. “Remy…” Her voice breaks, her body bowing with the force of my thrusts. “I’m there… please… now.”
I don’t need any more invitation. With one final, deep thrust, I let myself go, burying myself to the hilt as my cock pulses hot ropes of cum inside her. Eve’s body clamps down on me, drawing out every last drop as her own orgasm crashes over her. Our mouths merge in a savage kiss, swallowing each other’s cries as we shatter.
For a moment, there’s nothing but the drumbeat of our hearts, the slickness of our sweat-soaked skin, and the hammering of my pulse in my ears. Then reality comes rushing back, intruding on the cocoon we’d woven around ourselves. I ease away, collapsing onto my back, my arm reaching out to pull her against my side.
Afterglow. It’s a fucking illusion. Like peace and happiness. Moments of weakness, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it right now, holding her against me. But all it takes is one wrong word, one step out of line, and this fragile peace will shatter.
I want to tear it all down, rip off the band-aid and expose the bitter truth behind our fucking hearts. But I can’t. Not yet. And so I hold her carefully, as if she might break. But the truth is, it’s me who’s coming apart at the seams.
For now, the storm of our choices has calmed, the truth a quiet powerhouse between us. I hold her tighter, my lips pressing to her temple, a silent apology for the chaos I’ve dragged her into. She relaxes into my touch, a boneless, willing weight, and I inhale the scent of her, my mark all over it.
At this moment, I need her to know, to see what her surrender has done to me. I gather her into my arms, her back to my front. Our bodies align, intimate and raw, bruised from our chaotic joining.
“I’ve got you, Eve,” I promise, my lips brushing her ear. “I’ll burn it all to the ground if that’s what you need. It’s you and me against the world.” I nip at her pulse, feeling her pulse jump beneath my lips. “Just stay with me.”
Chapter 21
I stare at the ceiling, my body deliciously sore, tangled with Remy in his obscenely expensive sheets. The marks he left throb—badges of possession that should make me recoil. Instead, they anchor me to this moment, to him.
His words echo in my head: “I love you.” These three words could destroy everything.
My fingers find the faint scar on his hand, tracing its jagged edge. The intimacy of the gesture hits me, and I snatch my hand back. Remy’s arm tightens around my waist, a possessive claim even in sleep. His steady breathing brushes my neck, raising goosebumps I refuse to acknowledge.
Love. The word tastes bitter. What he feels isn’t love—it’s obsession, control wrapped in pretty words and prettier lies.
Yet…
Yet he touched me like I was precious. Whispered promises against my skin. Looked at me with something raw and desperate in his eyes.
“Stop thinking so loud,” Remy murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
“Wasn’t aware thoughts had volume.”
“Yours do.” His fingers trail up my ribs. “Want to share?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He props himself up, eyes sharp despite his lazy tone. “You’re dissecting every word I said.”
“There’s nothing to dissect. You don’t love me. You love owning me.”
His jaw tightens. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.” I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Love doesn’t come with conditions. Or surveillance. Or handcuffs.”
