Page 152 of Lovely Venom

He takes his time peeling off my panties, fingers scraping over my sensitive skin. By the time he spreads me apart and eases himself between my legs, every nerve in my body is on fire.

Bracing himself on his forearms, he presses against me, a low rasp of approval stirring in his throat.

“Fuck you’re wet for me, baby.”

“I need to feel you,” I whisper.

“I know.” His fingers sweep over my throat, angling my head back until I feel the full weight of his heavy gaze.

He sinks inside me slowly, burying himself deep as we stare into each other’s eyes. It’s intimate and intense, but I don’t want to look away for a second.

“Did you miss this?” he murmurs.

“So much.” Emotion chokes my voice.

“Good.” He rocks into me, lips ghosting over mine as we come together in an intoxicating rush.

Everything else drifts away as the world blurs at the edges and all that exists is this moment.

In a haze of ragged breaths, heated hands, and the rapid beating of our hearts, we find our way back to each other.

I find my way back to the place I think I’ve always belonged.

Because he left the door open for me.

The gravity of that engulfs me and burns me to ash.

He fucks me like it’s the only thing that matters, and somewhere between darkness and daylight, pleasure consumes us both.

As we lie together in the afterglow, exhaustion nearly pulling me under, I feel him tracing a familiar pattern over the T-shirt.

It’s hard to verbalize anything right now, but my curiosity won’t be sated until I do. He’s done that before when my skin was bare, and I never knew why.

“I’ve been meaning to ask what you see there.”

“Corvus.” He hums.

“What?”

“You have a pattern of freckles on the back of your shoulder. It looks like a constellation.”

“Corvus?” I echo, the word too familiar to be a coincidence.

“The raven.” An undercurrent of possession warms his voice.

The significance of that statement sends a shiver down my spine. It feels like fate had intertwined us long before we ever knew it, and in the next breath, Cristian seems to confirm it.

“You were made for me, dea.”

Something stirs me from my sleep, and it takes my foggy brain a minute to register the sound of whispering. I’m not sure who it could be, since I’m still sprawled across Cristian’s chest with our limbs tangled together.

As I slowly force my eyes open, I find him doing the same. Then his gaze drifts to the end of the bed, and he lets out a groan.

The entire family is standing there like a scene straight out of While You Were Sleeping.

I blink at them, trying to process what’s happening.

“What time is it?” Cristian asks.