Page 79 of Sins of the Hidden

My heart stuttered beneath my ribs. Those three syllables held more truth than in all the violent passion we'd shared. This dangerous man—who I suspected had killed without remorse, who moved through the world like a force of nature—feared my abandonment.

"I don't know how to explain it." He exhaled sharply, pressing his face against my hair. "I don't feel lost when I'm with you."

Those simple words meant more than any elaborate declaration ever could. I nestled deeper into his embrace, understanding completely what he meant. With him, I felt seen. Truly seen, perhaps for the first time.

I reached up, my fingers hovering near the edge of his mask. I didn't try to remove it—I knew better—but the gesture was a question all the same. To my surprise, he took my hand and guided it to the edge, allowing me to feel where it met his skin. Not removing it, but sharing something of himself nonetheless.

"I think I'm already learning," I whispered against his skin, my lips brushing the scarred flesh above his heart.

His fingers trailed lazily down my spine. I wasn't sure if I was still crying. If I was, he didn't pull away. "Learning what?"

I pressed my palm flat against the O above his heart. "How to love you."

I watched as he processed my words, his body going completely still. Then his arms tightened around me, one hand cradling the back of my head as if I were something infinitely precious.

"Oakley," he murmured against my hair, so quiet I barely caught it. Not a command this time. Not a claim. Just... me.

The night settled around us, wrapping us in silence. What more needed to be said? The admission hung in the air between us, delicate yet profound. Exhaustion began to claim me, my eyelids growing heavy as the emotional and physical intensity of the night caught up with me. V pulled the blanket over us, tucking it gently around my shoulders, his actions speaking what words couldn't capture.

As I drifted toward sleep, the edge of his mask brushed my forehead—the closest thing to a kiss he could offer.

Instead of running from his hold, I snuggled into his arms, feeling safe for the first time in years. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, I belonged here. In this impossible peace he built just for me.

Fuck.

I've never felt so damn good in my life.

For the first time, my muscles were lax. The sensation of my body wanting to move was gone. Every inch of me felt heavy, weighted with satisfaction. My heartbeat pulsed through my veins with a languid rhythm I'd never known before. Nothing like Hellbound where I'd beat my toys for hours with my bat, the adrenaline and need pushing me on and on, always chasing something I couldn't reach. With my toys, I'd always felt wired after. Restless. Unsatisfied. But with her, this was different.

The scent of sex and her lingered on my skin. All I wanted was to stay here with her. Stretching on Oakley's broken bed, I made a mental note to buy her a better bed, slightly bigger too. With all the things I had planned for her, I would need the room.

Maybe a headboard too.

The hiss of running water spilled from the en suite. Oakley had said she needed to freshen up and have some 'me time.' Not happening. She wasn't about to wash my scent off her. I would just keep putting it back on her. I adjusted my black surgicalmask, making sure it was secure against my face before I went after her.

My limbs fought me as I pushed off the mattress, muscles heavy with satisfaction. The mask shifted slightly as I stood. A pulse shot through me at the image in my mind—Oakley's skin glistening under water, droplets sliding down her curves.

Steam leaked beneath the bathroom door, beckoning me closer. I pushed it open hard enough to rattle the hinges. Three long strides brought me to the tub.

Through the thin shower curtain, her silhouette was a revelation—a landscape of shadows against the fabric. The generous swell of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the gentle rise of her stomach visible even through the barrier between us. Blood rushed south as I watched her movements, slow and sensual as she washed herself, unaware of my presence.

I grabbed the floral curtain and yanked hard, rings screeching against the metal rod as fabric tore aside. Moist air wrapped around my face, thick as breath, laced with soap, shampoo, and beneath it all, her essence. Water thundered against porcelain, echoing off tile walls, her form now in full view through the vapor between us.

She screamed, yanking the shower curtain to shield her body, water droplets scattering in the humid air.

I ripped the curtain from her desperate grip, her curves jolted at the sudden motion.

She stood in the haze, resembling a Greek fucking goddess. She stood like temptation incarnate, steam-glossed and still—hips aching to be gripped, flesh rising and falling in reverent waves.

She thinks she's undesirable. And I'm here, falling apart over how beautiful she was just breathing.

Her hair stuck to her skin, every tiny detail on display just for me. The places where my grip sank in, the way she yielded—itwas like her body had been made to remember me. Never in my life would I ever understand why she hated the way she looked. She was my favorite view.

"Y-You're getting soaked." Her shrill, high voice matched the widening of her eyes. My eyes deliberately wandered down her body, taking in every curve, every goosebump rising on her skin.

My hand reached between her legs, feeling the insistent throb of need radiating from her center. Heat radiated against my palm before I even made contact. I ensnared her gaze, holding her prisoner as my hand searched, slow and certain, fingers exploring with deliberate pressure. "So are you."

Color surged up her neck as she froze, held captive by the gravity between us.

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