His voice falls quiet, but the weight of it stays, heavy and unyielding, pressing against the air between us until I can barely breathe.
This man—this giant, terrifying force of a man—is crying over me. Real tears. The kind that doesn’t belong to someone like him. And for one insane, unbearable moment, something inside me breaks wide open.
I want to throw myself into his arms, back into the cage he’s carved around us, and let him keep me there. Let him hold me, claim me, ruin me again and again until there’s nothing left of me that doesn’t belong to him.
I reach for him before I can think better of it, my hands finding his shoulders, pulling him down to me. His body trembles against mine, all heat and exhaustion and something that feels too human for what he is.
I hold him tight—so tight I can feel the beat of his heart against my chest. The scent of him wraps around me, thick and familiar: smoke, cedarwood, and bourbon. The same scent that used to make my pulse race, then turn my stomach, and somehow—God help me—now feels like home.
“I’m falling for you, Jacob,” I whisper, the words trembling as they leave my mouth. “But you’re not safe. You’re dangerous. You hurt me.”
His eyes search mine, raw and disbelieving, and I can’t hold his gaze for long. I swallow hard, my voice cracking.
He lifts his head, eyes wild and glassy, and before I can speak, his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss isn’t soft—it’s desperate, feral, like he’s trying to consume every breath I’ve ever taken without him.
“Fuck, Summer,” he growls against my lips, his voice breaking on the edge of rage and worship. “I’m sorry I hurt you—but I had to keep you here. Had to stop you from running.” His breath trembles, hot and uneven against my mouth. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again… but I see it in your eyes, sweetheart. You don’t want mercy—you want the monster.”
His hands frame my face—rough, trembling, desperate. “I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, his words a vow and a threat all at once. “Anything you want. It’s yours.” His gaze burns into mine, dark and unrelenting. “You’re mine, you hear me? Mine.”
Each word hits like a heartbeat—reckless, unrestrained, final.
“Fuck the past,” he rasps. “Fuck everything. We’re here now. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.”
We stay tangled there for what feels like forever, lost in the taste of each other and the sound of our ragged breaths. The forest floor crackles beneath us, leaves clinging to our skin as we roll together, the world narrowing until it’s only him—onlyus.
When he finally pulls back, his gaze holds mine with something fierce and unspoken. Then, without a word, he slides his arms beneath me and lifts me from the ground. My head falls against his chest, the steady pound of his heartbeat echoing through me. The forest fades behind us, the light slipping through the trees in thin,fractured beams, and all I can hear is his uneven breathing as he carries me back—back to his home—our home.
He carries me through the doorway and up the stairs without slowing, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty house. In the bathroom, he sets me down only long enough to reach for the tap. Water bursts from the showerhead, steam filling the room like a rising fog.
We undress each other in a hurry, our hands clumsy and desperate, mouths finding one another in between every breath. The heat from the water collides with the heat of our skin until everything feels the same—blinding, overwhelming. I feel him hard against my stomach, heavy and hard, reaching higher than I thought possible—a physical reminder of just how big he is.
He steps back just enough to look at me, the water streaming down his face, his chest heaving. His fingers rake through his damp, ashen hair as his gaze drags over me—slow, searching, possessive.
He leans in to touch me, but I push him back. His eyes flicker—first with frustration, then shock, and finally that flicker of despair, like he thinks I’m rejecting him.
Little does he know what I’m thinking. I’m not pulling away to stop him—I’m doing it because I want to give him something I’ve never given anyone else.
Constance once told me about it, how to do it, how it felt. I’d always brushed it off, never thought it was something I’d want. Until now.
I drop to my knees before him, and his eyes darken, gleaming with a hunger so fierce it borders on worship. His hand comes down, fingers grazing my cheek as he steps closer, a low growl rumbling from his chest—deep enough to burn straight through me.
“I… I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to give you this,” I pant, heat radiating between my thighs.
“I’ll guide you, baby,” he rasps.
His hand slides from my cheek into my hair, the other following to gather it, gripping just enough to make me shiver. He pulls it back, holding it like a makeshift ponytail, and steps even closer until the tip of him hovers inches from my mouth.
The shower roars above him, sending a cascade of heat down his back. Steam fills the small space, wrapping around us, warming my skin and drawing every nerve to attention.
I open my mouth, letting him slip inside.
The taste of salt is the first thing I notice, as I slide my tongue across the tip. He lets out a moan, a groan from deep within his soul. I look up to him, and he has his head tipped to the ceiling, still moaning.
“That’s it, baby, swirl your tongue just like that.” He groans as he pulls my head forward, forcing more of him into my mouth.
I suck gently, worried I’ll hurt him if I’m too rough. I continue to swirl my tongue around his length. When I glide it along the thick vein that runs from his shaft to his end, he lets out a husky moan, so I keep my tongue there, and swirl it faster.
“Fuck, Summer.” He moans, holding my head still. Pulling himself gently in and out as I attack the sensitive area with my tongue.
