Page 103 of The Toy Collector

“Yes, baby, that’s it. Now tell me—” I’m cut off by the way her cunt squeezes me as her orgasm hits with a force that surprises us both.

She cries out and I drive into her one final time, burying myself to the hilt. “Fuck! Piper!” I groan her name as I empty myself inside her.

I collapse over her. My body feels simultaneously leaden and weightless, wrung out and remade. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her—sweat and sex and something uniquely Piper, something I could track through darkness, through fire, through the gates of Hell itself if necessary.

Her pulse thrums against my lips, slowing until it matches mine—two heartbeats syncing into one. I feel the echo of it in my own chest, our rhythms synchronizing like they were always meant to.

This close, with nothing between us, I’d feel even the slightest tension, the smallest hint of regret or fear. But there’s none as she wraps her arm around me, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair in a mirror of my own grip on her.

The gesture undoes me more completely than any climax ever could. I remain there, breathing her in, letting her hold me in a way I’ve never allowed anyone else to do.

In this moment of absolute honesty between us, I need to admit the truth to her, the one she’s too scared to tell me.

“You own me,” I breathe into her skin, the words more prayer than surrender. Then I push myself up, looking into her green eyes. “I don’t think you’ve heard me when I’ve said it before—”

“Enzo—”

Shaking my head, I interrupt her like she did to me. “You own my heart, Toy. My body. My name. My fucking soul. Every part of me is yours. Everything I own is yours. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve been yours.”

She swallows thickly. “But you don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to know your past to know you’re mine. I don’t need details to feel you in my blood.”

Shifting, I place my hand on her heart.

“But I know this, baby.” I lie down on my side, placing her hand on top of my organ that’s beating just for her. “And you know mine. You have since I first saw you.”

She smiles softly as her fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, soothing the sting from where she bit me earlier. The contrast is exquisite—her violence and her tenderness, her defiance and her acceptance. I could stay like this forever.

Her hair is a wild tangle against the pillow, her lips swollen from my kisses and her own teeth worrying them.

“Look,” she starts, pressing her finger against the puzzle tattoo abovemy heart. “I told you that I wanted to see Ben three days ago, and instead of taking me, you keep changing the subject. I can’t belong to someone who tries to control me.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Because we’re on fucking bedrest.”

Scoffing, she tries to push me off her. “Is that really the only reason?”

“Yes,” I promise. “After Voss has checked you over tomorrow, we can go if you want to.”

She yanks me in for a gentle, sweet kiss. When she pulls back, there’s a new gravity in her gaze, a weight of understanding that wasn’t there before.

“You better not be lying to me, Enzo.”

Chapter 37

Piper

The fluorescent lights of Arlington Diagnostic buzz above me like static electricity, making my skin prickle. Dr. Voss’ cool fingers press against my wrist, counting my pulse beats while her eyes track the second hand on her watch.

Enzo stands in the corner, a dark sentinel with crossed arms and watchful eyes that haven’t left me since Ben slipped something into my drink seven days ago.

“Blood pressure is normal,” Dr. Voss says, unwrapping the cuff from my arm. Her voice is clinical, detached, but there’s something else there—a hint of satisfaction. “Your heart rate is steady. And the bloodwork from yesterday looks good, too.”

I sit very still on the paper-covered exam table, the crinkle underneath me sounding too loud in the sterile room. My fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt. “So I’m okay?”

Dr. Voss’ light brown eyes assess me, not unkindly. “The drug has fully cleared your system. No signs of any lasting effects.” She tucks her stethoscope around her neck. “You’re recovering well, but I still recommend taking it easy for another week.”

“Define taking it easy,” I scoff, and Enzo’s eyes narrow from his corner position. I feel his gaze like a physical touch. “Can I go back to Georgetown?”

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