“I’m sorry,” I breathe, acutely aware that our childhoods were so different. I would never know what it means to feel everything he feels right now. All I ever wanted to do was run away from it all, and here he is wishing to have it back.
He exhales. “I’m coming to learn that I found that feeling once again. But it doesn't come when I step through these halls or when I sit on this balcony. Not even the memories of having it all taken from me,” he admits, and I tilt my head the best I can as my words lodge in my throat, making it impossible to speak. His eyes find mine and hisfingers flex at my sides. “I found that feeling again with you.”
My lips part, my jaw falling slack again as I prepare myself to tell him all the reasons why that's not true, but before I can even say a single syllable, he continues.
“Being near you warms something inside me, hope blossoming along with the tingles of joy I never thought I would feel again, and they dance through my veins simply from seeing you. When we were down in the basement of Institute One, and again in the gardens of the Louvre in Paris, spiraling on the verge of death made it all crystal clear.” His eyes scrunch in pain. “I can't feel terror like that again, Elodie. I can't feel despair like I felt when I lost my family, not when it comes to you. Which is insane, because in the same breath, I advocate so hard for you to have the strength to do this yourself and be who you were always meant to be. But the thought of harm coming your way shatters my soul. Selfishly, a part of that is because I don't want my home to disappear again.”
I turn in his hold, curling my arms around his neck as I look up at him. No words will be able to make sense of what I'm feeling inside. So I repay the same favor he gave me earlier, and I speak withmy body instead. I press my lips to his, but it's soft this time, delicate and sweet.
His hands ghost up my spine as my fingertips find their way into his hair. I want to swallow every one of his breaths and offer him each of my own at the same time. I want to feel every part of him, no barriers between us, just the thunder of his heartbeat beneath my palm. The desperation for it becomes so real that I blindly tug at the hem of his t-shirt, snaking my fingers over his chest until I can do just that.
The rhythm is melodic, soothing as our lips remain fused together, and my world tilts. At what angle, at first, I'm not sure. My vision is completely filled by Thorne, but the slight glimmer of sunlight in the corner of my eye tells me I'm lying on the balcony floor. The marble floor is pressed against my back as he hovers above me. My thighs spread and he fills the slot with ease as my hand remains plastered against his chest.
Looking down the length of myself, confusion wars inside of me when I realize I'm in a dream wearing clothes that aren’t what I fell asleep wearing. I know with certainty that I went to sleep in Rion’s oversized t-shirt, yet I find myself in a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt. What irritates memore is the fact that they’re standing between me and my shadow fae.
He must sense the same desperation I do, because in one seamless move, the tearing of the material echoes in every direction as he shreds the fabric. Effortlessly, he leaves me bare, the marble chilling beneath my back.
I gape at him as my hand remains in the exact same place, and he reaches over the back of his neck, tugging his t-shirt off along with his shorts until we’re both bare. Only when I inch my core closer to him, desperate to feel the sweet burning sensation of him stretching me wide, does he pause,
His eyebrows furrow with uncertainty. “I shouldn't do this right now. I can't think straight,” he mutters, and I gape at him in disbelief.
“Don't you dare stop right now, Thorne,” I warn, and he shakes his head, deadly serious.
“I feel like I'm not in control of myself right now. My emotions are too heightened and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Let me help bring them back down. You would never hurt me,” I interject, cupping his chin as I fight against the desire to encourage his mouth to mine.
Despite my efforts, he moves willingly, pressinghis lips to mine, and I arch my back, nestling my core against the tip of his cock.
“Please, Thorne,” I whisper, and his hips flex, filling me in one swift move as I cry out.
The sensation is more than I bargain for, stealing my breath as my muscles clench around him. My eyes roll to the back of my head, the world spinning on its own axis as he consumes every inch of me.
All too quickly, he pulls out to just the tip. When he thrusts back in this time, he does so more slowly, and I glare at him.
“Harder,” I order, and he shakes his head.
“I’ll break you.”
I scoff, my emotions heightened beyond explanation. “I’m already broken.”
His eyes widen and his jaw falls slack. “Don't say that.”
I dig my fingernails into his arms as I plead. “Harder, Thorne. Give me all of you. Let me prove that I can take it,” I insist, and he shakes his head again. “Shatter me, then you can piece me back together again,” I promise, and it's as if his hips move of their own accord.
He fills meeffortlessly.
With every flex of his hips, he goes harder, every thrust filling me more.
He's bruising, from the tips of his fingers that bore into my sides to the pounding of his cock as he fills me again and again and again.
The marble beneath me offers no reprieve as I cling to him.
Pleasure dipped in sweet pain.
I can barely breathe.
It's raw. It's real. It's everything.
