Page 160 of Emylia

It had always been for me.

A love letter, burned into skin.

“You’re not broken,” he whispered, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re not some problem waiting to be solved. You’re not a competition I need to win. You’re you. And tonight… you’re mine.”

Something inside me cracked wide open, shattering every inch of me. Scorching my insides.

His love was a storm. A wildfire. And for the first time in my life, I let it burn. I let it claim me—fully, completely.

I was ready for him to have every inch of me.

Not because I owed it.

Not because I needed to choose.

But because I wanted him.

Needed him.

Desired him beyond all reason and thought.

I could no longer deny the heat. The inferno that had always burned between us. And now the space between us was ash. Nothing left standing in our way.

The world narrowed to his hands. His breath. The sound of his heartbeat echoing in my chest. And for once… I wasn’t afraid of being seen.

I wanted him to see everything.

Unapologetically.

Irrevocably.

Me.

“I need you to know,” he murmured, breath warm against my skin, “if you want me to stop, just whisper the words…”

“I’ll tell you,” I promised.

His smile was soft. Shaky. Built of devotion. But it was his eyes that drank me in—watching me as I discarded my nightshirt in a crumbled heap on the floor. I stood bare except for a scrap of lace and a barely-there bra.

He sucked in a breath like I’d stolen the air from his lungs.

“Holy shit…” His voice dropped to a gravelled whisper. “You’re…” He shook his head like language had abandoned him.

“You’re going to ruin me.”

My breath hitched. “Good.”

Then his hands slid up the inside of my thighs, each touch of his fingertips setting fire to my nerves. He paused, just before touching the fabric between my legs.

“May I?”

My throat was raw with need. “Yes.”

His fingers slipped beneath the lace, stroking slowly—teasing, coaxing, learning me by the way I trembled. He memorized every breathless sound, every shiver. Every place that made me burn.

I fell back onto the mattress as his body followed, shadowing mine, his hand never straying from the place he now owned.

He grinned—mischief, awe, and worship all tangled together.

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