Page 185 of Let Me In

I nod, even though I know by now that’s not enough for him.

His thumb brushes beneath my eye. Over the apple of my cheek. Down to my mouth. He watches the way my lips part under his touch.

“Tell me.”

My mouth parts, and I find myself reaching, hoping to answer with my lips instead. But he won’t budge.

My voice is hoarse and soft when it finally comes.

“I feel… safe.”

Something in his expression shatters at that. Not visibly, or loudly.

Just a flicker in his eyes. A breath that falters.

Then—“Good girl.”

The words wrap around my chest like a balm. They settle something inside me I didn’t know was still shaking. My breath stutters, then evens out.

He kisses me then. Slow and deep.

Claiming.

Like he’s sealing it.

Making sure every part of me knows. And when he finally pulls back, his voice is gravel against my lips.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

His voice is low and thick with promise—part threat, part tenderness. His fingers flex against my hips, anchoring me in place, and his eyes burn with something equal parts hunger and care. Like he’s not done showing me how thoroughly I belong to him.

I blink up at him, eyes wide, mouth parted. And he smirks, just the faintest, devilish tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “Eventually.”

That smirk doesn’t fade right away. It lingers—low, dangerous, and intimate.

Like a promise wrapped in velvet.

Eventually.

My body hums at the word, even as I lie breathless and spent beneath him.

I feel him shift. His cock, still inside me, gives one final throb before he groans low and starts to ease out—slowly, carefully, like he knows I’m sore.

The stretch makes me gasp.

He hushes me instantly.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

One hand curves protectively over my hip, anchoring me as he withdraws completely.

The loss makes me whimper, even as I flinch at the sensitivity.

His hands are there in a second, stroking my thighs, brushing back damp hair, grounding me.

Then he moves. He doesn’t leave, just reaches to the bedside table where he’d set a warm cloth earlier—because of course he did.

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