Page 94 of Broken Honor

The question hangs between us, heavy. He inches forward again, and I back away. A soft gasp escapes me as gravity pulls, but I don’t hit the floor. His hand grabs my waist and his arm wraps around me, pulling me upright—pulling me into him. My chest brushes against his bare skin. His warmth spreads into me, blooming through my bones like something I’ve never felt before. His other hand steadies my elbow. I’m too close. I can feel his heart thudding beneath his ribs. Or is it mine?

I’m aware of every inch of him. The ridges of his abs against my body. The light musk of cologne and something darker—smoke and cedar, a trace of salt on his collarbone. My breath shortens. His eyes, they drop to my mouth, staying there.

His forehead dips closer until I feel the whisper of his breath brushing my cheek. The heat coils low in my stomach. My thighs press together without meaning to. I don’t understand what’s happening.

He inches close and I shut my eyes just like I did the first time our lips met. But this time, his mouth brushes the shell of my ear instead.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

A quiet sound slips past my lips before I can stop it. It feels like shame and longing all wrapped into one. I shake my head—barely. I don’t have the words.

His lips find my earlobe. His teeth graze the soft skin, gently, then again with a little more pressure. I feel it down my spine.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, and it’s not a dare. He’s giving me a way out.

But I don’t want it.

My hands tremble as they clutch the sheets. His head dips lower, his mouth tracing the line of my throat. I feel his breath first—then his lips. He starts gently, kissing just below my jaw. Then deeper, hotter, dragging sounds from me I didn’t know I could make. His mouth moves along the column of my neck, down toward my collarbone, and I feel myself tilting, baring more skin for him without even realizing it.

His hand slips up, fingers finding the curve of my chest. I breathe. He breathes.

Then slowly, he presses against me—his palm cups me through the fabric, rough against the softness of his shirt draped over me. My breath catches again as he begins to move, kneading my breasts gently, like he’s memorizing the feel of me.

His breath quickens. Or again, maybe it’s mine. My eyes flutter shut as his other hand rises to my face, cradling my cheek with surprising tenderness. Then he lifts my chin, just a little, and lowers his mouth to mine.

His tongue brushes against mine, insistent and hungry, and I’m drowning. I don’t kiss him back—not at first—but he doesn’t seem to mind. He kisses like a man who’s been starved. Who’s afraid I’ll vanish. One hand buries itself in my hair, the other remains over my chest, and I’m trapped in the middle—trembling and breathless, lost beneath him. And yet... I don’t want to move.

He groans softly against my mouth, pulling me closer still until there’s no space left between us.

And then— he stops. His mouth rests against mine, both of us breathing hard.

His forehead leans into mine, his hand is still in my hair, the other on my chest.

His breath is ragged. I hear the growl in his throat before he speaks, a sound like a man at war with himself.

“Why are you making me like this?” His voice is raw, trembling just beneath the surface. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I open my eyes. His are already on me—dark, wild, searching. And he looks so… lost.

My lips part before I can think. The words come so softly, I almost don’t recognize my own voice.

“Please… do it again.”

His breath stutters as my heart pounds in my chest.

He leans back, just an inch, enough to see me—really see me. There is confusion in his stare as his fingers tremble slightly where they cradle my face.

I nod, slow and small. “Please,” I whisper. “Again.”

His eyes look down at my lips and he leans in again.

Chapter Nineteen – Vieri

The room is quiet, but my mind isn’t.

Her breath brushes softly against my skin—light, even, but just rough enough to remind me she’s not fully healed. She’s curled into my side like it’s the most natural thing in the world, her thick frame pressed against mine, one arm flung across my waist. My arm’s gone half-numb under her, but I don’t move.

I stare down at her face, memorizing it without meaning to.

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