Page 8 of Bound in Silk

"Yours," she gasps, her hips rising to meet each thrust, her body speaking truth even when words fail her. "Only yours, Knox. Always."

The admission drives me to a near frenzy of possession, my movements becoming more forceful, more demanding. I hook one arm beneath her knee, changing the angle to hit the spot that always makes her wild. Her cries grow louder, more desperate as I drive her relentlessly toward release.

"Who makes you feel like this?" I demand, my voice rough with exertion and emotion. "Who knows your body better thanyou know it yourself? Who owns every part of you, inside and out?"

"You," she sobs, her inner muscles beginning to flutter around me as her climax approaches. "Only you, Knox. Never anyone else."

"That's right." I slip a hand between our bodies, my thumb finding her clit with unerring accuracy. "And don't you ever forget it again. Don't you ever try to run from this. From us."

Her release hits with stunning intensity, her body arching beneath mine, my name a broken cry on her lips as pleasure overwhelms her. The sight of her coming undone, completely surrendered to the connection between us, triggers my own climax. I drive into her once more, emptying myself deep inside her, marking her in the most primal way possible.

In the aftermath, I gather her against me, unwilling to break the physical connection even as our breathing gradually returns to normal. Her head rests on my chest, her body pliant and soft in the way it only ever is after I've thoroughly claimed her.

"No more guest room," I murmur against her hair, the words both statement and question. "No more pretending we're not exactly where we're meant to be."

She's quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she'll retreat again, if the walls will come back up now that physical need has been satisfied. Then she sighs, a sound of resignation mixed with acceptance.

"No more guest room," she agrees softly. "No more pretending."

Victory surges through me, sweeter even than the physical release still echoing through my body. Not just sex, not just physical surrender, but acknowledgment. Acceptance. The beginning of the full reconciliation I've been working toward since the moment I interrupted her wedding.

"Sleep now," I tell her, pulling the sheets over our cooling bodies, keeping her securely in my arms where she belongs. "Tomorrow we begin the rest of our life together. Properly this time."

She doesn't argue, doesn't qualify or condition her agreement. Simply nestles closer, her breathing gradually evening out as sleep claims her. In this moment of vulnerability, with all her defenses down, she's completely mine—body, soul, and soon, with continued patience and determination, mind as well.

Perfect. Exactly as it was always meant to be.

Chapter Five

Seraphina

My hands restagainst Knox's chest as I wake, but I feel a warmth in my heart, an uncomfortable heat that I recognize as affection. Not just desire—that's always been present, an undeniable current between us—but something deeper, more dangerous. Something I've been fighting since the moment he carried me from Richard's arms at the altar. I'm in Knox's bed, wrapped in his arms, our legs entangled as if even in sleep our bodies seek maximum contact. His breathing is deep and even, his face softened by sleep in a way it rarely is during waking hours. The morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains casts golden patterns across his features, highlighting the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheeks, the slight vulnerabiity of his mouth when not set in its usual determined line. He looks younger like this. More approachable. More like the man I fell for three years ago, before the possessiveness and control issues drove me away. Before I convinced myself I needed someone safe like Richard instead of someone all-consuming like Knox.

I should regret last night. Should chalk it up to pregnancy hormones, to the vulnerability I felt after seeing our baby on the ultrasound, to weakness in the face of Knox's relentless campaign to reclaim me. Should be planning my retreat back to the guest room, back to the emotional distance I've fought so hard to maintain.

Instead, I find myself studying his face, memorizing details I'd forgotten during our eighteen months apart. The small scar at his temple from a childhood accident he rarely speaks about. The slight asymmetry of his bottom lip that makes his smile just imperfect enough to be devastating. The few strands of silver appearing at his temples, evidence of the pressure he puts himself under daily running his empire.

My fingers move of their own accord, lightly tracing these features as if to confirm they're real, that I'm really here in his bed again after everything that's happened between us. Knox stirs slightly at my touch but doesn't wake, his arm tightening unconsciously around my waist, keeping me close even in sleep.

That's always been his way—holding onto what he considers his with absolute determination, refusing to accept even the possibility of loss. It's what drove me away before. The suffocating sense of being possessed rather than partnered. The knowledge that Knox Vance doesn't love by half measures—it's all or nothing with him, complete surrender or constant battle.

And yet...

There's something different this time. Subtle changes in his approach that suggest he's learned from our past, that he's trying—in his Knox-like way—to balance his need for control with my need for autonomy. The office he created for me in the penthouse, a space that's solely mine. The way he supports my career without trying to direct it. Even his security measures, while non-negotiable, are implemented with more consideration for my feelings than he would have shown before.

Is it possible to be both protected and independent? To be cherished without being controlled? To be Knox Vance's woman without disappearing inside his overwhelming presence?

The questions circling in my mind have no easy answers. All I know is that waking in his arms feels right in a way nothing has since I walked out of his penthouse eighteen months ago. That despite my best efforts to maintain emotional distance, I've been falling back under his spell since the moment he interrupted my wedding. That the past few weeks in New York have shown me a side of Knox I'd forgotten existed—the man beneath the billionaire, the vulnerability behind the control, the depth of feeling behind the possessive exterior.

"You're thinking too loud," Knox murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes remain closed, but a small smile tugs at his lips. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that beautiful head."

"Sorry," I whisper, instinctively starting to pull away.

His arm tightens, keeping me against him. "Don't apologize. And don't retreat. Not anymore."

I settle back against him, surprised by how natural it feels to lie here in his arms, to have this morning-after intimacy that goes beyond the physical connection we reestablished last night. "I was just…processing."

Now his eyes open, dark and immediately alert despite having just woken. "Regrets?"

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