I circle her slowly, teasing her until she’s writhing beneath my touch, then slide one finger inside, savoring the way she tightens around me. When she relaxes, I add a second, scissoring gently, stretching her with slow, steady care.
Her moan nearly undoes me.
“You feel so fucking good, Berkley.” The words tumble out of me, rough and reverent. I lean back on my knees, needing to see her—watch her. My fingers, still slick from touching her, wrap around my cock, spreading her wetness over every inch of me. Her eyes are locked on mine, full of love that makes my chest ache. Slowly, I hover over her again, one arm planted beside her head, the other guiding my tip to her entrance. I drag it along her heat, coating myself, grounding us both in what’s about to happen. “You ready for me, baby?” I ask, voice low, uneven, because I need to hear her say it—need to know she wants this just as much as I do.
The sound of her voice—soft, breathy, full of trust—hits me like a punch to the chest. “Mmhm... yes.”
God.
The way she says it wraps around my heart and pulls tight, like she doesn’t even realize she just handed me the world. I grip her hips, steadying both of us, because everything inside me is vibrating with the weight of what this means.
Lust hangs thick in the air, like something we can taste. It crawls over my skin, coils in my spine, makes it damn near impossible to go slow—but I will. I have to. We’ve dreamed of this moment for years, and now that it’s finally here. Every breath, heartbeat. Every shift of her body beneath mine.
Her eyes find mine—wide, trusting, and full of something that makes my chest ache. My breath stalls. I steady myself, one hand braced, the other guiding us forward.
“Eyes on me, Berk,” I murmur, my voice rough. “I want to see you... every second of me sinking inside you.” My words trail off as I press forward slowly, carefully, like she’s something sacred.
Her fingers clutch the sheets, her breath hitching, but she doesn’t look away. And I don’t either. I want to see every flicker of emotion, every spark between us.
“That’s it,” I whisper, drawing back a breath before easing in deeper. A soft gasp leaves her lips, and I freeze, scanning her face for any hesitation. “Just a little more, baby... hang on to me.”
When I press forward that final inch, she whimpers—tightening around me instinctively—and we groan together, the sound tangled in shared breath. I freeze, every muscle straining with the effort to hold back, giving her time to adjust, to breathe, to settle into the feel of us like this.
Then she moves. Just a slight shift beneath me. An invitation.
The second I respond, sliding into a rhythm, I’m undone. The friction between us is a rush—warm, perfect, blinding. Like lightning in my veins and heaven in my bones.
A low groan rips from my chest as I lean down, resting my forehead against hers, grounding myself in her eyes.
“Rowen, please.” My name falls from her lips like a prayer—breathless, trembling, desperate. She doesn’t even have to finish the thought; I hear everything she’s asking in that single word. And just like that, whatever restraint I had left shatters.
I thrust forward again, losing myself in the way we fit—like something written in our bones. A deep moan rips from both of us, raw and unfiltered. I press my lips to her neck, feeling the hum of her pulse as I murmur, “You okay, baby?” My voice is low, but my eyes search hers, needing to know—needing her to feel safe, cherished.
“Perfect,” she breathes, voice soft but sure. Then her eyes spark with mischief as she adds, “Now make love to me like we’ve both been dreaming of.” That little wink? It’s confirmation. Sweet as sugar on the outside—but underneath, she’s pure fire, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
My grin tilts with heat and possession as I shift my grip—one hand tangled in her hair, the other sliding along her thigh, coaxing her leg around my waist until we’re locked together, body to body, heart to heart.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” I murmur, voice already thick, fraying. It’s the only warning I give before I drive forward—slow at first, but deep—earning a gasp that I swallow in a hard kiss. She clutches me tighter, and I feel her tremble from the inside out as an orgasm slams into her. “Good girl,” I growl against her mouth, moving with rough control, dragging her over the edge. Her body clenches around me with each rhythm, each desperate moan, until I’m losing every shred of calm I had left. “Give me another,” I whisper through clenched teeth. “I want to feel you come apart for me one more time.”
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her legs lock tighter around me, and when I angle my hips just right, she falls—beautiful, breathless, and mine.
“That’s it,” I whisper against her lips, swallowing the sound of her release as I lose myself right alongside her. Every muscle locks tight, every nerve alive, until all I can feel is her—clutching, trembling. I don’t stop moving until the last of the tension drains from both our bodies, leaving us wrecked and breathless, tangled in each other like we’ve got nowhere else to be but here. “Damn, Berk,” I murmur, sweeping a few damp strands of hair from her flushed face, then pressing a slow kiss to her temple. “You undo me. Completely.”
Her laughter spills out soft and breathless, and it hits me like a sucker punch to the chest. That sound—hell, thatsound—undoes me more than anything else ever could. It’s light.Unfiltered. Pure. And I realize I’d burn down the world just to hear it again.
My lips twitch into a smile before I even realize it’s happening. A real one. The kind I haven’t worn since before the weight of the world landed squarely on my shoulders. Since before life twisted us into weapons. Before Momma left this earth and Dad turned colder than steel.
But with her in my arms, everything softens. My grip. My edges. Even the storm that never stops brewing in my chest quiets when she’s close like this.
Then she goes and touches my face—gentle fingers gliding across my jaw like she’s trying to memorize every angle—and leans in to kiss the tip of my nose like I’m something worth cherishing.
Damn her. She doesn’t even know the power she has.
“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” she teases, voice all syrup and sunshine, and I swear my heart damn near bows to her.
I stare down at her, my chest tightening as those words echo in my head. Everything I am—all the chaos and control, the violence and vulnerability—balances on this one truth I’ve carried forever. “I love you, Berkley,” I say roughly, with no hesitation. No hiding. “It’s only ever been you.”
Chapter Eight
