Valeria thought she could tear us apart by twisting the truth and throwing it in my face. But what she did was pull us back together.
“I’m sorry, Cherry-red,” he whispers against my lips.
“Stop.” I open my mouth wider for him, and he kisses me like a man who’s been drowning and finally found air.
There’s nothing careful about it. No hesitation. Just raw, desperate need, his tongue stroking deep, claiming, devouring. I taste salt—his tears, mine, the pain we’re both carrying—and I moan into him, letting him take what he needs.
Becausethisis what he needs. Not gentle words. Not careful touches. He needs to feelme. To replace every ghost on his skin with something real. Something that belongs to us.
I pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in both hands, stroking his scar with my thumb. His eyes are still haunted, still carrying the weight of that cell, but beneath the shame, I see it. The desperate need to bemineagain.
“Come with me.”
I stand slowly, taking his hands and pulling him up with me. He follows, shaky but trusting as I lead him to the bed then step back, holding his gaze as I strip for him. Slowly. Peeling off my shirt, letting it drop. My bra follows. Then my pants and panties, until I’m completely bare in front of him.
Reth’s breath catches, rough and audible in the quietroom. His winter-blue eyes darken as they rake over me, slow, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of skin I’m offering him. His hands flex at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me.
There’s hunger there, but underneath it is something deeper—awe, almost disbelief, like he still can’t believe I’m choosing to give myself to him after what he sees as betrayal.
“Sophia…” His voice is wrecked, barely more than a rasp. “You don’t have to?—”
“I want to,” I say, cutting him off gently. “All your life, you’ve been taken from. Let me give this to you. Because you need it. Because I love you.”
His throat works hard as he swallows, eyes never leaving mine. The control he’s clinging to is fraying at the edges, but he stays rooted in place, letting me set the pace, even as his body trembles with the effort.
I step between his thighs, staring down at him.
“Touch me.” I take his hands and place them on my waist. “I’m yours, Nazareth. I’ve always been yours. She can’t change that. Ever.”
His palms slide up my ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, and I arch into him, needing more. Needing him to know that every inch of me is a safe place for him.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He breathes. “Real.”
He leans in, mouth closing over one nipple, sucking hard enough to make me gasp. His tongue swirls, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks straight to my clit. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him there as heat poolslow in my belly. This isn’t just sex. This is reclamation. This is me giving him back his body, his desire, his right to want.
“Lift your arms for me,” I say, and he does, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head. I then drop to my knees to help him out of his sweatpants.
His cock springs free, heavy and already hard, the thick head glistening. Reth’s breath stutters above me as I wrap my fingers around the base and lean in.
“I’m yours. You can stop this whenever you want…just don’t close your eyes.”
He bites his bottom lip, and I press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock before dragging my tongue slowly up the length of him, savoring the way his thighs tense and his hand fists gently in my hair.
When I take him into my mouth, a rough, guttural sound tears out of him. His hips twitch once before he locks them down, breathing hard through his nose as I work him deeper.
I glance up, and the sight hits me hard—his jaw clenched tight, eyes half-lidded and burning down at me, every muscle in his body strung taut like he’s barely holding himself together.
He looks wrecked. And completely focused on me.
After a long, wet pull that draws a hoarse groan from him, I slide off with a soft pop and rise to my feet, meet his eyes, and guide him onto the bed. I push him gently onto his back and climb over him, straddling his hips.
“Only me,” I say softly, taking his face in my hands again. “Stay with me, Nazareth. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t go back there. Seeme.”
I lean down and kiss him slow and deep, pouring everyounce of love into it. My hands roam over his tattooed chest, tracing scars and cherry blossoms, mapping every inch of him like I can erase her touch with mine.
I kiss down his neck, over his collarbone.
“You’re mine,” I murmur against his skin. “This body is mine. Every scar, every breath, every inch. She never touched what matters to me most.” I flatten my palm against his chest where his heart is. “This.”
