The bed creaks beneath us, the sheets tangling around our legs, and I can feel the moment he lets go, the moment he finally stops holding back. His thrusts become harder, deeper, and I meet him stroke for stroke, my body singing with the friction, the heat.
When I come apart, I cry out his name, claiming him as surely as he’s claiming me. He follows moments later, his face buried in my neck.
We collapse together, breathing hard. “You’re safe,” he whispers after a moment, pressing a kiss to my temple. “With me, you’re always safe.”
He starts to move away, to give me space, but I grab him tight and hold him there to keep him close a little longer. My fingers trace lazy patterns on his sweat-dampened back as our breathing slowly returns to normal.
This is different.
Everything about tonight is different.
The silence that falls between us isn't the careful silence of healing sessions. It's the comfortable silence of two people who've finally stopped pretending.
His hand finds mine on the pillow, threading our fingers together. The gesture is so simple, so intimate, it brings tears to my eyes.
I should leave. That's the rule. I always leave before dawn.
But tonight, I don't want to leave.
Tonight, I want to stay.
I close my eyes, my body snuggled tight against his, our hands still linked, and let myself drift.
For the first time since this began, I fall asleep in his bed.
And this time, I don't leave before dawn.
Chapter 46: Renato
I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows and birds singing outside.
For a moment, I'm disoriented. I never sleep past dawn. Years of survival instinct trained that habit into me permanently. Then I feel the weight against my side and everything comes rushing back.
Camilla.
She’s still here.
She's curled against me, her head on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach. My left arm is wrapped around her shoulders, completely numb from supporting her weight all night.
I don't move. Don't even breathe too deeply for fear of waking her.
Because she's still here.
She didn't leave before dawn. Didn't slip away into darkness like every other night. Fell asleep in my arms and stayed.
Her face is unguarded in sleep, stripped of the armor she wears for the world. Peace looks foreign on her—but God, it’s beautiful. She looks younger like this. Softer. Like the girl she might have been before men like me destroyed her innocence.
My arm is screaming in protest, pins and needles radiating from shoulder to fingertips. I ignore it. Would let it fall off completely before I'd risk waking her and ending this moment.
Because this might be it.
The only time she lets herself be this vulnerable with me in daylight. The only morning I wake to find her still in my bed.
I need to memorize it. Every detail. The weight of her against me. The silk of her hair under my chin. The warmth of her breath against my chest. The way her fingers curl loosely against my ribs.
What does it mean that she stayed?
Last night was different. We both felt it. The way she came to me in the study, the kiss that tasted like choice rather than healing, the desperate passion between us that had nothing to do with replacing bad memories and everything to do with us.
