Her skin is warm under my hands, flushed and soft, and I can feel the shiver that rolls through her as I slide the straps off her shoulders. She gasps when my knuckles graze the curve of her breast, a sound that punches straight through my chest.
She’s not just beautiful.She’s devastating.
My hands move with purpose, not to claim, not to dominate—but to worship. Her body arches into my touch like she’s starved for it, like she’s been waiting all night to be seen like this. Touched like this.
“God, Vi…” I breathe, the words breaking before I can catch them. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She’s trembling now, from want. Need. That same aching pull I’ve been trying to deny since the day I met her. Her thighs press together instinctively, and I catch the movement, ease her back onto the bed, and press a kiss to her lips.
I quickly remove my suit tossing in the chair and crawling onto the bed, hovering above her.
“You’re killing me,” I whisper. “One fucking look from you and I’m done.”
She opens for me with that same trust she wore when she walked into the club—bare, and fearless, like I haven’t already wrecked her and might again.
And I can’t fucking breathe. As I settle between her legs.
My whole world slows down. No games. No commands. Just this. Just her. Just me.
Her body is a map I’ve memorized from across rooms, from behind glass, and from every breathless moment together. Now, I get to trace it—slowly—with my hands, my mouth, and my breath. I kiss the hollow of her throat and feel her pulse skip. Another to her breast, where her heartbeat pounds against my lips like a secret.
My hands drift over her waist, over the soft curve of her hips, and she shivers—open, trembling, and waiting.
“You’re beautiful,” I mumble against her skin. “You have no fucking clue.”
She exhales my name like a confession—soft, broken, and raw. It cuts through me like a blade. A clean, surgical wound I’ll never close.
Her legs wrap around me with all the grace and all the need in the world. Like this is the only place she’s ever belonged. Like I’m the only one who’s ever been allowed to see her like this.
And I follow. Without hesitation. Without breath. Without defense.
I swear I see stars behind my eyes as I sink into her.
She clutches at me, desperate and sure. “I need you,” she breathes. “Just… you.”
Fuck.
That breaks me. Splits me open like I’ve never been before.
The way she holds me—like I’m safety. Like I’m hers. Like this isn’t an accident or a drug-induced fantasy. Like it’s the truth. And I want to believe her. I do. But I’m notstupid. I know how chemicals work. I know how Zephyra burrows in, how it twists and binds and blurs.
Still… this? This feels real. This feels like coming home.
The fear claws at me anyway.What if this is all a trick of chemistry? What if I lose her tomorrow, and this is just some beautiful fucking lie?
But the way she touches me—the way she kisses me like I’m the answer to a question she never thought she could ask—it silences everything.
Even if it’s just for tonight… I want it.
I move inside her slowly, reverently. Her gasp tears through me like gunfire. Her body arches into mine, her fingers clinging to my shoulders. She looks at me like I’m not just blood, muscle, and secrets. Like I could be something more.
And I want to be.
I move with intent—no dominance, no rhythm meant to unravel her—just connection. Just honesty. Just us. Every breath. Every moan. Every heartbeat.
Her nails dig in when I whisper her name. She falls apart beneath me, and I follow, giving her everything I’ve never said aloud.
Maybe love doesn’t mean weakness.
