The word slips out before I can stop it, but I don't take it back. It's truth. She's love and need and everything I never knew I wanted.
I enter her with slow precision, giving her every inch with agonizing care. The way she stretches around me, the heat of her body accepting mine, makes my vision blur at the edges. I'm mindful of her shoulder, keeping my weight braced on my forearms, but there's nothing gentle about the way I claim her once I'm fully seated.
"Look at me," I order, and her eyes snap open to meet mine. "I want to see you when I make you come."
I move inside her with measured rhythm, building heat gradually, driving deeper with every thrust. The angle hits something perfect inside her, and I feel her clench around me involuntarily. My hand slides between us, finding her clit and circling with perfect pressure while I fill her completely.
The dual sensation pushes her higher, and I can see it in her eyes—pleasure building impossibly high, coiling tight until she's balanced on a knife's edge.
"Come for me," I order, voice rough with my own need. "Now, Marissa. Let me feel you."
She shatters beautifully. Her body clenches around me in waves, pulling me deeper, and the sound she makes is pure pleasure and surrender. I watch her come apart beneath me, and the sight of it—her eyes unfocused, her mouth open, her body trembling—pushes me over the edge.
My rhythm falters as I drive deep and hold there. Her name falls from my lips like prayer and possession all at once, and my release tears through me with an intensity that leaves me shaking. I feel myself pulse inside her, feel the shudder that runs through my entire body as I come apart above her.
Afterward, I release her wrist from the binding, checking for circulation with professional efficiency before gathering her intomy arms. Her injured shoulder rests comfortably against pillows while I hold her, my hand moving through her hair in repetitive strokes.
"I love you." Simple. True. No hedging.
"I love you too."
"Good." I pull her closer. "Because you're mine now. All of you. We clear?"
"Crystal clear, Sir."
She falls asleep in my arms, and I watch her in the candlelight. No walls between us now. No doubt. Just Marissa breathing softly while the Mediterranean whispers beyond the windows.
Morning arrives with golden light and the sound of waves. I'm already awake, propped on my elbow, watching her sleep. The sunlight paints her skin in shades of gold and rose, and I trace the line of her body with reverent touch.
She stirs, eyes opening slowly. "Morning," she murmurs, stretching with care. "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to think about how you changed everything." My hand traces down her side, claiming and reverent all at once. "I was an eliminator. Good at killing. Better at staying alone. Then I found you in that villa, sent to kill you, and you made me want to be more than weapons and death."
"You made me want to be more than covers and performance," she counters. "Made me remember that Marissa exists beneath Nocturne."
"Marissa," I say, using the name. "Is that what you want to be called now?"
"Yes." The certainty in her voice is absolute. "Nocturne is the operative. Marissa is the woman. I want to be both, but I want you to know the difference."
"Marissa." I capture her jaw, forcing her eyes to mine. "Mine. Say it."
"Yours."
"That's right." My mouth claims hers with heat that's anything but gentle. "Don't forget it."
I settle back against the pillows, pulling her against my chest with care for her shoulder. The morning light paints golden stripes across the bed, and I can hear waves through the open window.
"I don't want to go back to solo operations," she admits. "Don't want to work alone again after this."
"Neither do I." I lace my fingers through hers. "I'm going to request partnership status with Cerberus. Official pairing. We work together going forward."
"You think Fitz will approve?"
"After Monaco?" I laugh, feeling the rumble in my chest. "We're more effective together than separate. He'd be stupid to split us up."
"Partners in everything," she says. "Professional and personal."
"Everything," I confirm. "No separation. No walls. Just us building something real."
