My throat tightens.
I say it anyway.
I think I mean it.
I think I’m already too far gone.
“Yes.”
His body shudders.
His hands cage me tighter.
His lips drag across my cheek, my jaw, my throat.
His voice softens into something I’ve never heard from him before.
Something that almost sounds like a memory.
“I heard you cry once,” he whispers against my skin.
I freeze.
His breath is steady now, like he’s somewhere else.
“I don’t know if you remember.” His thumb grazes that scar again. “You used to cry when you prayed.”
A sharp pulse cracks through my ribs.
“I—” My throat stumbles. “I don’t— I don’t remember?—”
His lips press to the corner of my mouth.
“That’s okay,” he breathes, like it’s a secret, like it’s a lie. “You don’t have to.”
His grip tightens on my jaw, dragging my gaze back to his.
His eyes are steady now.
Not manic.
Not afraid.
Like he’s already rewritten the past for both of us.
“You’re mine now,” he says, his breath stealing what’s left of mine. “Only mine.”
And the words fall from me like they always do.
“I’m yours.”
His smile is slow.
Sharp.
Possessive.
“You’ve always been.”
