I reach up and cup his face. My thumbs brushing over his stubbled jaw. His eyes are so dark they're almost black. Pupils blown wide with desire. And tenderness that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
"Bukuri ime, my beauty" he whispers against my mouth. The Albanian sounds rough and raw in his throat. "E jotja për gjithmonë.Yours forever"
I don't know if he means it. Don't know if this is the moment talking or something deeper. But hearing it makes something break open inside me.
I explode in another orgasm. Harder than the first. My body clenching around him as pleasure floods through every nerve ending. Makes my vision white out at the edges. Makes me cry out his name loud enough that it echoes across the water.
Artan follows. His body going tense above me. His breath harsh and ragged against my neck. His hips stuttering as he comes deep inside me with a groan that sounds like my name.
We lay there after. Bodies still connected. Hearts pounding against each other. Breathing hard in the cool night air.
Eventually, he pulls out carefully. Sits up. Pulls me with him. Positions me seated between his legs with my back against his chest. Wraps the blanket around us both like a cocoon. His arms circle my waist and hold me close.
Together we watch the sunrise over the lake.
The sky lightens gradually. Pink spreading across the horizon first. Then gold bleeding through the clouds. The water reflects it all back, turning the surface into a mirror of color and light.
Neither of us speaks.
We just watch the day begin.
His chin rests on top of my head. His hands are warm against my stomach. His heartbeat steady against my spine.
Right now, wrapped in Artan's arms as the sun comes up, I don't think about the complications.
I just think about how right this feels.
How complete.
And how terrifying it is to want something this badly when you know it might not last.
29
ARTAN
The kitchen smells like coffee and bread, the scent rich and comforting in the morning air. Sunlight pours through the windows in long golden beams, warming the marble countertops until they glow like honey.
I stand at the stove, watching eggs cook in butter. The pan sizzles softly, the sound steady and hypnotic. Behind me, I can hear Lily moving around the kitchen with quiet efficiency. The soft clink of plates being set on the table. The gentle splash of juice being poured into glasses. Her movements are deliberate, careful, like she's thinking about each action before she makes it.
Erion sits at the table already, scrolling through his phone. His hair is still wet from the shower, dark strands curling slightly at his temples. He looks relaxed in a way I haven't seen in days. The tension that usually lives in his shoulders is gone, replaced by something looser. Easier.
Last night changed things. For all of us.
I woke up this morning with Lily in my arms, her body warm and soft against mine, her breath steady and gentle on my chest. The sunrise we watched together still sits in my memory like something sacred. Something I don't have words for yet. Something I'm not sure I want to examine too closely because naming it might make it disappear.
Now we're here. The three of us. Learning how to exist in the same space after what happened. After the line we crossed. After the boundary we erased.
It's not tense. Not awkward exactly. Just new. Tentative. Like we're all feeling our way through unfamiliar territory without a map or compass. Testing each step before we commit our full weight.
I slide the eggs onto a plate, the yolks soft and golden. Turn off the heat. Carry the food to the table.
Lily is already sitting down, her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. She looks tired but content, shadows beneath her eyes but a softness in her expression that wasn't there before. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid, blonde strands escaping around her face. She's wearing one of my shirts, the fabric too big on her frame, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
The bruise on her neck is visible. Dark purple against her pale skin. The one I put there last night with my mouth and teeth and the need to claim something I have no right to claim.
Erion's mark sits on the other side. A mirror image. A twin declaration.
Neither of us comments on it. Neither of us needs to.
