He stops. Swallows hard.
"Then you looked at me like I wasn't a monster," he finishes roughly. "Everyone else sees it. You didn't. And I can't?—"
His voice cracks again.
"I can't lose that. I can't loseyou."
Even in the short time I've known him, I've sensed the walls—felt them every time he pulled back, every time he shut down. But right now, with his forehead pressed to mine and his voice breaking on words he doesn't know how to say?—
The walls are gone.
I've never wanted anyone the way I want him.
I kiss him.
He goes rigid. Like he doesn't know what to do with tenderness. Like the anger was easier, the desperation familiar, but this—soft and deliberate—short-circuits something in him.
So I do it again. Softer. Slower. My hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath my palms.
"Fleur—"
"Not here." I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. "Take me to your room."
Something shifts in his expression. He takes my hand—doesn't say a word—and leads me down the hallway. Past the main room, past the noise of his brothers, to the door at the end. He pushes it open, pulls me inside, and the lock clicks behind us.
Then he just stands there. Looking at me like he doesn't know what comes next.
I close the distance between us. Rise on my toes. Press my mouth to his.
"Fleur—"
"Stop thinking." I kiss him again, softer. Slower. My hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath my palms. "Just feel."
A sound escapes him—rough, broken. His hands hover at my waist like he's afraid to touch me. Like he doesn't trust himself.
I take his wrists. Guide his palms to my hips. "Here. Touch me here."
His fingers flex against me, and I feel the shudder run through him.
"I don't—" He swallows hard. "I don't know how to be gentle. Not really. Last night was?—"
"Last night was perfect." I pull back enough to look at him. Those grey eyes are wild, almost panicked. "But tonight I want something different."
"What do you want?"
I push against his chest. He doesn't move—of course he doesn't, he's a wall—but his eyebrows rise.
"Bed," I say. "Sit."
He blinks at me.
"Now."
He backs up until his knees hit the mattress and sits heavily, looking up at me with an expression I've never seen on him. Open. Waiting.Uncertain.
This man who terrifies everyone. Sitting on the edge of his bed, letting me lead.
I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor.
