Page 62 of The Devil's Wrath

“Wren? What’s wrong?” He flicked the cigarette away, and his thick, dark brow furrowed with concern.

I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my chest as his beautiful green eyes bored into mine, searching for an answer. The cool night air swirled around us, and with it, the faint scent of his cigarette. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat.

How could I tell him that I needed him and craved his touch and all-consuming presence, even in the face of everything he’d told me? How could I admit that the thought of being without him was more frightening than any threat from Igor or The Collectors?

He took a step toward me. His movements were slow and cautious, as if he were approaching a skittish animal. “Wren, talk to me. What’s going on?”

I shook my head, biting my lip as tears tumbled down my cheeks.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a deep understanding. He closed the distance between us, his strong arms enveloping me, pulling me tight against his solid chest. I breathed in his familiar scent—cigarette smoke, leather, and something else uniquely him. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his leather jacket as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. His hand cradled the back of my head as his fingers tangled in my hair.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “I’ve got you.”

I pulled back just enough to look up, and my tear-filled eyes met his. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered.

His eyes softened. “Never,” he vowed. “Not as long as there’s breath in my body.”

His lips found mine in a searing kiss filled with desperation, threatening to consume us both. I melted into him, my hands sliding under his jacket, seeking the warmth of his skin. He groaned into my mouth as his grip on me tightened. He slid his hands under my butt and lifted me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me back into the house, kicking the door shut behind us without breaking our kiss.

He gently set me on my feet in the entryway as he let his fingers gently touch my body, as if to reassure himself that I was real, that I was here with him. I fumbled with the alarm while he reached behind himself and locked the door. Picking me back up, he navigated through the dark living room, his lips never leaving mine as he made his way up the stairs and to my bedroom. Gently, he laid me down on my bed, his body covering mine as his hands roamed over my curves with a desperate hunger.

I tugged at his jacket, needing to feel his skin against mine. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor before his hands found the hem of my shirt. In one swift motion, he pulled it over my head and tossed it aside. His lips trailed hot kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing at my collarbone, making me gasp.

I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, my fingers trembling with need. Finally, I pushed it off his shoulders, revealing the tattoos that covered his scarred skin. I traced them with my fingertips, marveling at the beauty born from pain.

Theo’s hands skimmed over my bare stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He unclasped my bra with deft fingers, freeing my breasts. His mouth closed over one peak as his tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh, making me arch into him with a soft moan. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him close as his mouth showered attention on my breasts, his teeth grazing and tongue soothing until I writhed beneath him.

I needed more.

I neededallof him.

My hands slid down his back when he stood up, my nails scratching his skin as they reached the waistband of his jeans. I tugged at his belt, desperate to remove the last barrier between us. He helped me, kicking off his boots and shedding his jeans and boxers in record time.

Then he was back. His naked body pressed against mine as his lips claimed my mouth in a searing kiss. I could feel his hardness pressing insistently against my thigh, and I reached down to stroke him, reveling in the velvety steel of his length. He groaned into my mouth, his hips rocking into my touch.

“Wren,” he rasped, breaking the kiss to gaze down at me with lust-darkened eyes. “I need you.”

“Then take me,” I breathed, spreading my legs in invitation.

He settled between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging at my slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside me, stretching and filling me so perfectly that it took my breath away. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as he moved, his hips snapping against mine in a primal rhythm.

The world fell away until there was nothing but this—the slide of his skin against mine, the mingling of our breath, the building pressure where we were joined. I met him thrust for thrust, my hips rising to take him deeper, my inner walls clenching around his length.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His voice was rough with need.

I opened my eyes, not realizing I had closed them, and I met his gaze. At that moment, with him moving inside me, his face a mask of pure ecstasy, I had never felt more connected to another human being. It was as if our very souls were intertwined, two broken halves made whole.

“I love you,” I gasped out, the words tumbling from my lips unbidden. And I did. I loved the way he chose me. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was the only girl in the world for him. I loved how he protected me in his way, fiercely and with everything he had. “I love you, Theo.”

His rhythm faltered for a moment as his eyes widened in surprise.Then a slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, transforming his usually stern features into something breathtaking.

“I love you too, Wren,” he whispered against my lips. “More than anything in this world.”

He captured my mouth in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, pouring all his love and passion into it. His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, driving me higher and higher toward that peak of pleasure. I could feel it building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core until it finally snapped. I cried out, my body arching off the bed as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me. He followed me over the edge, my name a hoarse shout on his lips as he spilled himself inside me.

We clung to each other as the aftershocks of our climaxes rippled through our bodies, our chests heaving and skin slick with sweat. He rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so that I lay draped across his chest, my head tucked under his chin. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, as if he never wanted to let go. Something had shifted between us, some final barrier crumbling away to reveal the raw, vulnerable truth of our feelings.

I traced idle patterns on his chest with my fingertip, marveling at the contrast of my pale skin against his darker, ink-covered flesh. Each scar, each tattoo told a story, a piece of his past and present etched into his very being. I wanted to know them all, to unravel the mysteries of the man I loved.

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