Page 144 of Shatter

An inch at a time, his eyes locked on mine the entire way, watching my face for any flicker, any flinch.

There isn't one.

There's only him, filling me, his forehead dropping to rest against mine when he's all the way inside.

Neither of us moves.

His breath is ragged against my lips, his ribs heaving against mine.

"Hei." He breathes it against my mouth, soft. "Min kjære."

I don't know the words, and I don't need to.

He starts to move.

Slow and deep, his hips rolling into mine in a rhythm like the tide, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in until I gasp.

His forearms stay braced on either side of my head.

His eyes stay on mine.

I watch everything happen in his face.

The way his brow pulls together when I tighten around him, and his lips part when I lift my hips to meet him.

His gray eyes go soft and dark and wet, looking at me like he can't believe I'm real.

"Annika." His accent's gone, all of it, thick and broken and Norwegian. "Annika, du er alt."

I don't know what it means.

He keeps the pace slow, even when I start to shake.

Even when my nails dig into his back and I'm gasping his name.

He doesn't rush.

He takes me apart one slow stroke at a time, his eyes never leaving mine, until the pleasure's building so deep and so steady I can't tell where it starts.

I'm close.

I'm so close, and I don't want to fall over the edge without saying it.

I take his face in both of my hands.

I hold it there, inches from mine, his stubble rough against my palms.

His hips slow, then stop, buried deep.

He's waiting.

"I love you." My voice cracks straight down the middle. "Espen. I love you."

The words hang in the air between us.

His face breaks.

It doesn't crumple.