I pull her up. Spin her around. Press her onto her hands and knees.
She looks back at me over her shoulder, and the sight nearly finishes me—her flushed and disheveled andmine.
I thrust back in from behind.
This angle is deeper. More primal. I grip her hip with one hand, gather her hair with the other, pull gently—testing.
She moans.
Good god, she feels incredible like this.
I fuck her harder. The sound of skin against skin filling the room. My free hand comes down on her ass, light, barely a tap.
She pushes back into me, moaning.
Harder, then. The crack of my palm against her flesh, the way she clenches around me in response.
“Who do you belong to?” The words tear out of me.
“You—”
“Say my name.”
“Elio—”
I’m close. Too close. My thrusts going ragged, my grip on her hip hard enough to bruise.
“Come with me.” My hand snakes around to her clit. “Come with me, Violet.”
She falls apart one last time, and I follow her over the edge, emptying myself inside her with a groan that sounds like her name.
My limbs barely work as I pull us down to the bed and flip her to face me. Her expression is wrecked. Satisfied, tired, looking at me like I’m someone worth staying for.
I hold her in my arms, not ready to let go. Just hold her, her head on my chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal. I trace patterns on her back with my fingertips. Press kisses to her hair.
And once I can finally move again, I fetch a warm cloth. Clean her gently, between her thighs where my come marked her. She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, not speaking.
When I crawl back into bed, she curls into me immediately. Like she belongs there.
I don’t believe in love. Love is fairy tales and weapons. Love is how they train you to be compliant, how they break you into shape.
But this...
Her breath warm against my chest. Her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. The absolute certainty that I would burn the world to ashes before I let anyone touch her.
If this isn’t love, I don’t know what else to call it.
25
VIOLET
Sunlight presses warm against my closed eyelids.
I don’t move. Just lie here, enjoying the sensation of Elio’s arm across my waist. Heavy. Possessive. Even in sleep, he holds me like I might disappear. The soreness between my thighs is pleasant. A reminder that my body was used thoroughly, repeatedly, by a man who treated it like it’s worth worshipping.
The soft sheets are tangled around our legs. My cheek rests on warm skin, rising and falling with his steady breathing. His heartbeat drums beneath my ear. Slower than mine, calmer, like even unconscious he’s more controlled than I’ll ever be.
This could be normal.
