His lips press softly to my shoulder.
Then my throat.
Then my cheek.
Every kiss a promise.
Every breath a vow.
He came back from death itself.
He came back for me. His words settle deep inside me, threading through every fracture, every place I’ve been hollowed out by loss and fear and grief.
His hands rest on my waist, trembling.
Not with weakness.
With restraint.
His forehead presses to my sternum, his breath warm against my skin, and when he speaks, his voice is rough enough to break me.
“I need you, baby,” he whispers. “I need to possess you. I need to feel you, to know you’re here with me, that you’re real, that they didn’t take you somewhere I can’t reach.”
His fingers flex against me like he’s afraid I might disappear.
“I need to be inside you,” he admits hoarsely, shame and devotion tangling together. “I’ve never needed anything more than I need to show you how sorry I am. How much I love you. How much you mean to me.”
He exhales shakily.
“But I’m scared,” he confesses. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you. I’m scared if I let go of what’s inside me, I won’t be able to stop. You calm my demons, Seraphina. You’re the only one who can. You’re my stillness, my everything. But I’m afraid that if let this hold slip, I could hurt you… I don’t ever want to be a person that causes you pain.”
My heart shatters in my chest.
I slide my hands into his hair, guiding his face up until his eyes meet mine,
He stands before me, raw, and vulnerable.
He doesn’t understand.
He never could.
He is the only person that I have ever known to put me first, to hold me in high regard. To show me pleasure. The ways of the world. To sit with me and simply be with no expectations. To stand up for me.
How can I find the words… during the dark days of our parting and my seclusion, the moments my fear threatened to smother me, my belief in him kept me strong. His searching eyes. Hiswarm smile. And his touch, Lord his touch and how he makes me feel alive… to show me such pleasures, to keep me on the edge till all the pain and doubt crumble away…
I push gently at his shoulders, and his hands fall away from my waist as he lets me guide him back onto the mattress, his muscles tightening with instinct, his jaw clenching as he settles against the pillows.
His eyes darken as I climb over him.
“Trey,” I whisper, and my voice barely holds together. “You could never hurt me.”
My hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady, living beat of his heart beneath my palms, the tattoos that mark him, the strength that defines him, the fragility that nearly stole him from me.
“I need you too,” I confess. “Show me how much you love me. I’m not afraid.”
His breath catches as I lower myself over him, my hair falling forward, creating a world where only he and I exist.
His hands hover at my hips, waiting.
