Page 62 of Second Sin

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

Every stroke is reverent. Every breath feels like it matters.

I don’t know who moves faster first—but soon we’re both unraveling. He thrusts harder. I meet him. My nails dig in. His name breaks from my lips.

He holds me tighter.

It builds fast—hot and wild and molten. Every stroke sinks deeper, driving sparks through my veins, until I’m shaking beneath him. My breath catches. My body coils.

And then?—

I come apart.

It crashes through me like a storm, stealing sound from my lungs and reason from my head. I cling to him, to the feel of his skin, the weight of his body, the raw, aching sweetness of it all.

His release tears through him, face buried in my neck, body trembling.

But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t retreat like I half expected. Instead, he holds me tight like he’s afraid I’ll vanish, fingers splayed across my lower back, thumb tracing lazy, grounding circles against my skin. His breath is ragged in my ear. My heart hasn’t slowed. My legs are still wrapped around him, like letting go would shatter this spell.

I’ve never felt anything like this. The depth of it is staggering. Terrifying.

Not just sex.

Connection. Surrender. A glimpse of something I thought I’d buried. And God help me, I want to do it all over again.

He finally rolls to his side, one hand still possessively splayed over my hip. Our legs remain tangled. My lips tingle, kiss-swollen and tender from his mouth, my chest still heaving. We don’t speak.

His arm slips around me. No words. Just warmth, breath, skin. His fingers settle low on my waist, anchoring me like he’s still not ready to let go.

My face settles into his chest, breathing him in. My body hums. My eyelids grow heavy.

I should be scared of what comes next—of everything I might lose.

My job. My boundaries. The last shred of control I’ve managed to hold onto.

But right now, none of that feels bigger than this.

And for the first time in forever I don’t feel alone.

CHAPTER 23

SEBASTIAN

Morning light cuts through the drapes, soft and golden, spilling across the tangled sheets.

Olivia’s pressed against me, warm and loose-limbed, her breath a slow exhale against my chest. One bare leg is draped over mine, skin to skin, the kind of closeness that lingers.Her hair’s a mess of waves across the pillow. One arm slung over my stomach, the other curled beneath her head. Her fingers twitch, like she’s dreaming something light. Something safe.

And I’m fucking wrecked.

My cock’s hard. Has been since I woke up with her body draped over mine.

A soft moan slips from her lips as she presses tighter against me, her hips grinding just enough to make my jaw clench. Her eyes flutter open, lashes brushing her cheeks before she looks up at me.

"Morning," she says, voice husky, sleep-warm.

I study her face, searching for anything—regret, hesitation. But all I see is that same softness from last night. That same light that knocked the wind out of me.

"Hey," I murmur.

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