My free hand slips between us, fingers finding the swollen knot of nerves above where we join. I circle once, firm and steady, and her back arches off the desk, thighs tightening around me. She claws at my shoulders, nails scraping through the cotton of my shirt, leaving trails of fire. Her sounds grow ragged, broken around my name.
The tension coils viciously. I feel her start to flutter around me, those first warning pulses, and I drive harder, chasing the clench. She comes with a sharp cry muffled against my neck, body locking tight, inner walls rippling in long, milking waves that drag me right after her.
I bury myself deep and stay there, hips jerking through the release, spilling inside her in thick pulses that leave me breathless. The pleasure is almost violent, six years of want emptying out in a rush that whites the edges of my vision.
We stay joined, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in harsh pants. Her legs remain locked around me, trembling. My hand is still on her jaw, thumb stroking slowly now along her damp lower lip. The room smells of us, of sex and silk and the faint metallic tang of the desk beneath her.
Eventually, her legs loosen, and I ease out, both of us hissing at the loss. She slides off the edge on unsteady feet, tugging the green silk back down over her hips with shaking fingers. I tuck myself away, refasten my trousers, but my eyes never leave her.
The silence is thick—in this moment, with her mouth swollen and her pulse racing under my thumb, words feel suddenly small.
18
AURELIA
Julianand I sit in silence on the drive home.
I try to keep my breathing steady, but my body won’t cooperate. Every time the car hits a bump, I feel the echo of Cassian inside me. The ache between my thighs. The bruise forming on my hip where he gripped too hard.
Can Julian tell?
I sneak a glance at him. His jaw is tight, eyes on his phone, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s always controlled.
My dress is smoothed down. Hair finger-combed back into place. Lipstick gone, but that’s normal after an event. Nothing obvious screams that I just had sex in a storage room at a charity gala.
But I feel marked. Claimed. Like everyone who looks at me will know.
The memory flashes hot and sudden—Cassian’s mouth on my neck, his hand fisted in my hair, the desperate way we cametogether like six years hadn’t passed at all. My thighs clench involuntarily.
“You were gone a while earlier,” Julian says.
My heart kicks up. “Yeah, I had a little bit of a wardrobe malfunction,” I lie.
He nods but doesn’t question it.
I turn to look out the window and let myself remember properly now that I don’t have to guard my expression.
The way Cassian touched me. Like he was trying to prove something. Like he was angry and desperate and couldn’t get enough.
Six years since we’d been together. Six years of wondering if it would feel the same.
It felt better. More intense because now there’s history. Now there’s the twins and the lies and everything we’ve survived.
Heat crawls up my neck.
The driver pulls into the estate driveway, and I force myself back to the present.
“Get some rest,” Julian says as we head inside. “We have that meeting with the lawyers day after tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.” I head upstairs before he can ask anything else.
The twins’ room is dark except for the night-light Nadia plugged in near the door. Finn is sprawled across his bed like he fell asleep mid-motion, blankets kicked to the floor. Liam is curled on his side, breathing softly, one hand tucked under his cheek.
I stand in the doorway watching them, and my chest tightens.
They’re safe here. Julian has security everywhere, and Nadia watches them like they’re her own children. They’re adapting to New York better than I expected, asking endless questions about the city and making friends with the staff.
But Cassian knows I’m back. And tonight proved he’s not going to leave me alone.
