But I know she is, because I don’t think I can watch her walk away.
“I like being around you,” she admits.
I hook my finger around hers, tugging her closer. My palm cups her cheek, my voice low. “Then I’ll take that. Just stop disappearing on me, Remi. It drives me crazy.”
Her lips part like she’s about to argue, but I don’t let her. I lean down, closing the space, and press my mouth to hers.
This one isn’t hesitant like the first. It’s fierce, desperate, with all the minutes of panic, all the searching, crashing into one kiss. She stiffens for a heartbeat then melts, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt.
I angle my head, deepening it, tasting her. She tastes like fire and defiance and something I shouldn’t want this badly. My hand slides into her hair, holding her steady, like if I let go, she’ll vanish all over again.
She gasps against my lips, and that sound rips straight through me. I groan into her mouth, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us, her body pressed tight against mine.
I hook an arm around her waist and lift her clean off the floor. She makes a startled sound, muffled against my lips, her fingers clutching tighter at my shirt.
“Shadow,” she breathes as I pull back just enough to meet her wide eyes.
“Logan,” I correct softly. “Use my name.”
Her chest rises and falls quick, her eyes full of heat. I carry her, her legs curling around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The hallway blurs as I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring the voices, the music, the curious looks from anyone still lingering. Let them stare.
All I see is her.
I kick my bedroom door closed behind us, the sound echoing. I set her gently on the bed then shrug out of my kutte, sliding it off my shoulders and dropping it over the chair.
She sits there, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen, clutching the hem of the shirt she’s wearing like armour. I can see the nervousness in her eyes, the urge to bolt.
I crouch in front of her, hands on either side of her knees, forcing her to look at me. “We can stop at any time,” I promise her. “You have all the control here.”
She gives a slight nod then lifts her shaky hands to my shoulders. She runs them up and through my hair before tugging my mouth to hers again. As we kiss, she lies back, taking me with her.
Her lips are soft, tentative at first, but the second I’m lying over her, the kiss becomes more frantic.
I brace one hand beside her head, careful not to pin her, the other cradling her jaw as our mouths move together. Her breath hitches then steadies, and I swear I can feel the moment she lets go of the fear.
Her fingers fist in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper, like she wants to drown in this as badly as I do. I let her set the pace, let her decide how far we go, my pulse thundering in my ears with every brush of her tongue against mine.
I taste her heat and defiance, sweet and sharp, and I know I’ll never get enough.
She shifts beneath me, the mattress dipping, and I break the kiss long enough to search her eyes. “Still okay?” I murmur, breathless.
Her answer is another kiss, harder this time, her legs brushing mine as she arches up to meet me.
And that’s all it takes. The world outside ceases to exist. It’s just me and her, tangled in sheets, fire and restraint colliding, every nerve screaming for more.
But I keep my promise. Every movement is slow, measured, waiting for her to pull back, waiting for the slightest shake of her head.
Because this isn’t just about me, and I don’t want to be the reason she triggers.
Remi
His weight dips the mattress as he shifts above me, careful, like he’s terrified of breaking me. His mouth claims mine again, slower now, deeper, and every drag of his lips pulls something raw and aching out of me.
I should stop. Every alarm in my head screams that I should. Men don’t stay. They take what they want and they leave. I know this story.
But the way he touches me, it doesn’t feel like taking. It feels like giving. Like every inch of control is still mine.
