Page 132 of Press Play

I rest my forehead against hers as I take in the woman in my arms. Her eyes glisten under the low light, her lips swollen, breath heavy. Her beauty is mesmerizing, but it’s not just that. It’s the way she challenges me, the way she gives herself without hesitation, the way she’s undone every wall I’ve ever built.

In this moment, I realize how much of my heart she has. I spent years daring to imagine more that I didn’t notice the hold she had over me. I always loved Wren, but it’s just now that I acknowledge that I’minlove with her.

It’s like an avalanche, a tidal wave crashing over me all at once. Loving her was inevitable, like the world rearranged itself to bring us to this exact moment, this exact connection.

And as I look at her—her trust, her passion, her strength—I know one thing for certain: I don’t just want her in my arms tonight. I want her in my life, in every messy, beautiful, terrifying way she’ll let me have her.

I press my palm to her cheek, the intensity of it all catching me off guard. “Wren.” I keep my tone low. “I love you.”

She blinks, her brows pulling together like she doesn’t believe me. “Theo?—”

“I love you,” I say again, firmer this time. “Not just this—” I run my hands over her curves. “Not just tonight. I love you.Allof you.”

Her expression softens, and she cups my face in her hands, kissing me with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.

So, I continue. “I’ve always loved you. It wasn’t some grand, sudden realization. I think it’s always been there—this constant, steady feeling that you wereitfor me. Loving you is natural. It’s not something I had to learn or grow into. It’s just...you.”

The vulnerability in her eyes is so raw, so real, it nearly breaks me. She looks at me like she’s afraid to believe it, afraid to trust the words coming from my lips. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she searches my expression, trying to find any sign that I’m lying.

But I’m not. Every inch of me is consumed with her. I’ve never felt this way before, never been so sure.

“I love you,” she whispers as tears fill her eyes. “I loved you as Aralin in WoSaF, and I love you as Wren Jacob. I always have, and I always will.”

The weight of her words hits me, and I press my lips to hers, kissing her with a fierceness that feels like the first time.

“You were always mine,” I murmur, the truth of it surging through me.

She smiles, her breath warm against my lips. “As you were mine.”

A burning need ignites within me, my body hungry for more. “On your back,” I command. “I need you.”

Without hesitation, Wren shifts onto her back, her hair spilling across the sheets.

I move over her, my cock pressing against her wet entrance, teasing her as I slide it along her folds. Her hips lift instinctively, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you want,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear.

“You,” she breathes. “I want you inside me.”

I thrust forward, burying myself in her pussy. We both groan, and for a moment, I don’t move.

“You’re mine, Wren,” I murmur, pulling back before driving into her again. “Every inch of you.Mine.”

Her nails dig into my back, her moans growing louder with each thrust. I lose myself in her—her scent, her touch, the way her body responds to me. Nothing else matters.

Moving too fast, though, was a mistake because now my body threatens to give in, and I grit my teeth, staying rooted deep inside her. Wren squirms beneath me, and the vein in my forehead pulses.

“One second, baby,” I manage to grunt. “I just—need a moment.”

Her hand brushes my face, her voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, though I can barely hold it together. Her walls flutter around me, and I swear I feel her everywhere. My gaze drops to her breasts, full and rising with every uneven breath she takes. I draw my hips back and slide out just enough for her heat to pull at me before driving back in. I keep my eyes locked on hers, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face.

“Theo,” she moans, her voice trembling as she hooks one leg over my hip. The new angle makes her cry out. “Harder. Please.”

A moan rumbles from deep in my chest. She’s pleading, and I want to give her everything, but my restraint is a thread fraying under the pressure.

“Fuck, Wren . . .”

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