“Look at me,” he said, when I closed my eyes.“Don’t disappear.”
“I’m right here,” I whispered, and opened them.
His gaze searched mine, intense and unflinching.In that moment, something shifted between us—a final wall crumbling.I felt exposed, but not vulnerable.Different.
“I’ve never wanted to be seen before.”
His fingers traced the curve of my cheek.“And now?”
I leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his palm against my skin.“Now I can't imagine hiding.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating his face in stark relief—the sharp angle of his jaw, the shadow of stubble, eyes that held mine with quiet certainty.When darkness returned, I reached for him, finding my way by touch alone.
I unbuttoned his shirt, each newly revealed inch of skin a discovery.He remained perfectly still under my exploration, only the quickening of his breath betraying his composure.When I pushed the fabric from his shoulders, my fingers traced the constellation of scars across his chest, each one a story he hadn't told me yet.
The rain intensified, drumming against the roof like impatient fingers.I reached for his belt, but he caught my hand, bringing it to his lips instead.His eyes never left mine as he removed it himself.He lifted me from the desk with surprising gentleness.My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me toward the couch in the corner of the room.
He stood over me for a moment, eyes traveling the length of my body, then lowered himself next to me.“You're the most dangerous thing that's ever happened to me.”
I laughed.“I’m not the one with a gun.”
His smile didn't reach his eyes.“There are different kinds of danger, my love.”
“That sounds ominous.”I traced the line of his collarbone with my fingertip.
His hand caught mine, holding it against his chest where I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath my palm.“It's not meant to be.Just honest.”
When he kissed me again, it was with a hunger that matched my own.His weight pressed me into the cushions, solid and real in a way nothing had felt in months.I tugged at his remaining clothes, impatient now.His lips found my shoulder, my collarbone, the hollow of my throat.
I arched into his touch, desperate to feel more of him.My fingernails scraped lightly down his back, and he shuddered against me, his breath catching in his throat.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Just you.”
His eyes darkened.He pulled my shirt over my head, and the cool air raised goosebumps across my skin.For a moment, he just looked at me, his gaze tracing every curve, every scar.I should have felt exposed, but instead I felt powerful.Wanted.
When his lips returned to mine, the kiss was deeper, more urgent.Our remaining clothes fell away, barriers dissolving until there was nothing between us but heat and hunger.His hands mapped my body like he was committing every inch to memory.
His palm slid down my stomach, fingers dipping lower, finding the heart of me.I bit my lip to keep from crying out as he moved, watching my reactions with those intense eyes.My hands clutched at his shoulders, needing something to anchor me as pleasure built like a gathering storm.
“Don't hold back,” he murmured against my ear.“Not with me.”
I let go.The sound that escaped me was raw, honest in a way I hadn't allowed myself to be in years.He caught my cry with his mouth, swallowing it as if it were something precious.
When he finally moved over me, positioning himself between my thighs, he paused, searching my face one last time.I nodded, unable to form words, and he pushed forward.The fullness, the completeness of him inside me, stole my breath.
I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, and he groaned against my neck.His pace quickened, responding to my silent plea.Each thrust brought me closer to the edge, a precipice I both feared and craved.
“Look at me,” he commanded again, his voice strained with effort.“I want to see you.”
I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze as the tension inside me coiled tighter.His face was transformed by pleasure, all his careful control stripped away, leaving something raw and beautiful in its place.
When release came, it crashed through me like a wave breaking against rocks, powerful and inevitable.I clung to him as my body shuddered, his name a prayer on my lips.He followed moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buried his face in my neck, a strangled sound escaping him.
Afterward we didn’t speak.He tucked me against him on the leather couch beneath the tall window, our breaths falling into a rhythm.The rain softened to a hush.He pressed his mouth to my hair and said nothing because the words he had were violent and the words I had were soft, and both could live, but not yet together.
I drifted for a while—the kind of drifting that isn’t sleep, just distance.I traced the line of his jaw with my fingertip, the ridge of an old scar along his cheekbone, the place where the gold chain at his throat disappeared beneath his shirt.
