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He looked at me the same consuming way he’d always looked at me, like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

He rose to his full height and kissed me, and this time when I kissed him back, the knot in my chest loosened enough to breathe. His hands settled on my waist, thumbs brushing the edges of the scar, and in this moment it didn’t feel ugly. It felt like a piece of me, a piece that made me stronger—that showed I’d survived.

I unhooked my bra and let it fall, and when his gaze swept over me, it was the hungry and reverent look he always gave me. The one that made me feel like a goddamn masterpiece.

I reached for his belt, and this time, my hands didn’t shake as I shoved his jeans and boxers down. He was already hard, and the sight of him made me clench with need that had been building for six long, frustrating weeks.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me toward him by my hips until I was standing between his knees. His mouth pressed to the center of my chest while his hands explored my body, palms skating up my sides, across my ribs, down the curve of my waist. Every place his hands landed felt like a claim being restated.

I gripped his shoulders and let my head fall back as his mouth found my breast. His lips closed around my nipple and sucked, his tongue flicking against the peak, and a needy moan escaped my throat. Six weeks of deprivation had turned my nerve endings into live wires. Every touch felt amplified, every sensation dialed up to a volume I’d never experienced before.

His mouth moved to my other breast while his hands worked the button of my jeans open. He peeled them down my legs along with my underwear, his palms dragging down my thighs as he went. When I stepped out of them, his hands slid back up the outside of my legs until they settled on my hips again.

He looked up at me from where he sat. His gray eyes were dark and heavy, his lips swollen, and the raw hunger on his face made my stomach swoop. I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock, stroking from base to tip, and the groan that rumbled out of him was deep and just as needy as I sounded.

He guided me forward and I climbed into his lap, my knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. We were chest to chest, face to face, and when I looked down between us, the scar was right there. Visible and unavoidable, but no longer weighing me down with insecurities. Because the man I loved looked at it with such reverence.

I reached between us and positioned him at my entrance, then sank down slowly. The stretch after six weeks of forced celibacy was intense, and a shaky breath escaped me as I took him in inch by inch.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice already wrecked. His jaw tightened and his hands flexed on my hips, but he let me set the pace, let me take exactly as much as I was ready for until he was fully inside me.

“Oh God.” My voice came out thin and breathless. I could feel everything. Every inch of him, the heat of his skin against mine, the way my body was gripping him like it had been starving for this.

His hands slid up my back and held me against him, while his mouth found mine, kissing me with complete and utter possession. I started to move, rolling my hips in a slow grind that made both of us groan. He broke the kiss, nuzzling where my neck met my shoulder. His breath was hot against my throat, and mine was ragged in his ear as every roll of my hips sent sparks of pleasure radiating up my spine.

“You feel so fucking good,” he said against my skin.

I gripped his shoulders for leverage and picked up the pace, grinding down harder, desperately chasing my release. His hands tightened on my lower back as another rough curse fell from his mouth. I loved when I made him swear because it was so rare for him. And it told me exactly how far gone he was.

“Fuck, Sam.”

I was so close already. Weeks of wanting him buried inside me had made me desperate. The angle and the friction of his body against my clit built the pressure inside me with every roll of my hips. I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in, and my entire world narrowed down to the feel of him inside me, the warmth of his skin, and the sounds he was making as we came together.

My orgasm hit me like a wave cresting, my whole body tensing as pleasure radiated from my core outward. I cried out against his neck and he held me through it, his arms tight around me, his mouth pressing against my shoulder while I rocked and shuddered in his lap.

Before I’d fully come down, he shifted. His hands gripped my thighs and he stood, lifting me with him. I gasped at the change in angle as he turned and laid me back on the bed. My hips were at the edge of the mattress, and he was standing between my legs, still inside me.

He pulled almost all the way out and then drove back in, hitting that spot inside me that had me crying out in bliss. My hands fisted in the sheets as he set a pace that was harder and faster than what we’d just done, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me onto him with every thrust. I could see all of him from this angle. His chest heaving, his jaw tight with concentration as he watched where our bodies met.

And he could see all of me. My long, pink scar. My flushed skin. My breasts bouncing with every thrust. I was completely bare and exposed to him, but I didn’t want to hide a single inch of myself.

Not from him.

Never again.

“Harry.” His name came out desperate. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine, pinning it to the mattress beside my head. His gray gaze was locked on mine, filled with heat, need, and so much love.

“I’m close,” he ground out, his pace turning urgent, his grip on my hand tightening. “Come with me.”

All I could do was nod because I was already right on the edge. His hips snapped forward once, twice, and then pleasure erupted through me again, sharper this time, pulling a cry from my throat as my body clenched around him. He followed seconds later with a deep groan, burying himself to the hilt as he pulsed inside me, his hand gripping mine tight, keeping me grounded with him.

He shuddered as the last of his orgasm rolled through him, and then he leaned down and pressed his lips to the center of my stomach. Right on the scar.

“I love you, Harry,” I whispered because emotions were clogging my throat.

He smiled as he moved up my body and then collapsed beside me, immediately gathering me against his chest. His hand settled on my lower back, holding me close while our breathing slowly came down.