Page 113 of Shattered By Grace

And everything in her shattered.

Because this wasn’t just heat, or desire, or pleasure.

This was surrender.

This was a man who had given up everything for her.

Her release slammed into her, dragging him with her as they tumbled over the edge together.

Neither of them let go.

Tristan held her through every shudder, every aftershock, his arms locked around her like letting go wasn’t an option.

She slumped against him, her body spent, her forehead resting against his as their heartbeats thundered against each other.

Tristan’s lips brushed her temple, then lower, over her jaw, her throat, like he still wasn’t done memorizing every inch of her.

“Mine,” he murmured against her skin.

She smiled, a soft, breathless sound escaping her as she curled deeper into him. “Yours.”

His arms tightened around her, and in that moment, she knew there was no going back.

Chapter Fifty

Victoria lay sprawled across Tristan, her body utterly spent, her cheek pressed to the steady rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat, a deep, rhythmic thrum, was the most perfect sound in the world. She traced idle patterns over his skin, her fingers gliding over the ridges of muscle, the warmth of him anchoring her in the moment.

Tristan’s hand rested against the small of her back, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. Neither of them spoke. There was no need. The silence between them wasn’t empty, but full. Full of warmth, like the air between them had taken on its own breath.

She sighed, nuzzling closer, letting her eyes drift shut. This was bliss.

She felt his body shifting beneath her, his muscles tensing slightly. A beat of hesitation before his voice, low and teasing, rumbled through her.

“I guess I need to get my suit. Red or black?”

“Hmm.” Victoria hummed in response, not even bothering to lift her head.

Tristan chuckled, the vibrations of his laugh reverberating through her. His hand slid up her spine, fingers slipping into her hair, gently massaging her scalp. “The ball is this weekend.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” she groaned, finally tilting her head to look up at him.

“Come on, love. You don’t want to see me in a suit… or should I just show up in my birthday suit?” Tristan smirked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

She narrowed her eyes, lips twitching. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

“Alright, no to the birthday suit.”

“Tristan.” She poked him in the ribs, feigning offense.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, holding his hands up. “Then what’s the problem?”

Victoria exhaled, rolling onto her back beside him, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of reality was already creeping back in, threatening to disrupt the perfect cocoon of warmth and contentment. “It’s not exactly my scene.”

Tristan’s fingers brushed her arm, grounding her in the present. When she turned back to him, the teasing in his expression had faded.

“I’ll be there,” he murmured, his voice a promise.

She searched his face, her fingers absently tracing the lines of his jaw. “Will your father be there?”

---