“Look at me.” He grabs my chin gently, my eyes opening slowly.
I take in his bruised skin and his dark blond hair that falls in his eyes. He needs a haircut now that we are free.
Free.
We are finally free.
My eyes fill with tears and Emris blurs. When I blink, the tears slip free, rolling down my cheeks, but his thumb catches them first. His warm fingers there before his lips follow, kissing each place my tears touch.
“I missed you so much,” he says, his voice breaking as his eyes track over my face. I never pictured Emris crying before, but his eyes glass over anyway. The tears spill, but he doesn’t hide them.
“I missed you.” Bringing my hands up, I wipe away his tears. “Don’t cry.” I hiccup as my own tears match his. We both end up letting out a weak chuckle as we lay there in each other’s arms for the first time in weeks.
For two weeks we were locked down and tortured in that warehouse. Two weeks’ worth of horrors we’ll have to work through.Together.
I lean up, pressing my lips to his and needing to know this is real and not some dream I’m going to wake up from. Emris doesn’t waste any time as his tongue dances with mine, his fingers gripping my hip as he pulls me closer to him. This is the only place I want to be.
56
BRIELLE
Three Months Later
“Getyour beautiful ass out of bed!” Emris shouts from the bathroom, and the sound of the water running hits my ears. I smile as I stretch, light shining through the curtains.
“Brielle, we’re going to be late if you don’t get up.” Emris’s large frame comes into view, wearing only his boxers. His abs are on display, and I bring my hand up, reaching for him. He comes willingly, settling down next to me on the bed in our room.
Soft lips press to mine and warmth fills my chest. When Emris deepens the kiss, I pull back just enough to speak. “I have morning breath.” I push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. He leans in again and kisses me like he never heard my words at all. His tongue slips against mine until the moan I let out makes him pull back. A knowing smirk curves his mouth as he rises from the bed.
“Emrissssss,” I whine, throwing myself back on the bed.
“Nope! Get your ass up! We are going to see your mom, then back to the hotel to meet Archer and Kill. They have a meeting with two men they might be bringing to the team, which means we can’t be late for ours.” He lowers his boxers before disappearing through the bathroom door, and that’s enough to get me out of bed.
I strip out of my clothes as I enter the bathroom. My eyes land on Emris behind the glass shower door, and I have to press my thighs together.
He’s a masterpiece.
As his hands move through his hair, I imagine how much I desperately need him.
I step in behind him, and my hands automatically go to his chest and roam downward over his tattoos until I find his cock already hard and ready. Emris doesn’t say anything as I move around to his front. His hand is against the wall behind me as he leans over me, eyes dark as they roam my naked body.
I press my lips to his chest since I can’t reach his neck, peppering kisses as I lower myself until I’m on my knees. He looks like a dark god from down here.
Bringing my mouth to the tip of his dick, I lick the tip.
Only the tip.
Emris hisses as he moves one hand to the back of my head.
After getting away from Peter, I was afraid of my own body. Afraid of what I might remember. I told myself that intimacy was something I’d lost. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever. And some nights that thought felt heavier than the bruises ever had.
But with Emris, it’s different. Not easy or simple, but different in a way that feels like stitches pulling the thread back together again. Sometimes taking control feels good. Like it’s necessary. Each choice I make is a reminder that my body answers to me again. In every way possible.
And sometimes I let him take the control away from me—not because I don’t have it, but because I choose to give it. Because he needs that surrender as much as I need the strength. What makes this possible and safe is knowing that one word would stop everything, and even when I let myself feel powerless, I never am. The control will always be mine.
That knowledge doesn’t erase what happened, and it doesn’t fix me, but it lets me breathe again.
As I take more of him in my mouth, he hits the back of my throat, but he’s holding back as he usually does until I tell him otherwise.
