Page 183 of Controlled Burn
He flipped her over without warning, dragging her hips back against him. Fucked her from behind with savage intensity, one hand gripping her hair, the other pressing her down.
She moaned into the mattress, body quaking, mouth open and wet as her orgasm slammed into her—raw, violent, infinite.
He followed with a broken sound, hips stuttering, teeth gritted.
“Fuck—Talia—I’m gonna—”
“Do it.”
He came inside her with a guttural curse, spilling everything he had left. His body collapsed over hers, breath ragged against the back of her neck.
They were two ruined things trying to put each other back together—reckless, wrecked, and still reaching.
For a long moment, they didn’t speak.
Just breathed.
Just existed.
Maddox
Her back was warm against his chest. Her hair tangled in his fingers—her scent—smoke, sweat, Chanel—buried in his lungs.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t.
He didn’t want to let go.
Talia stirred beneath him, and he shifted just enough to ease her down, wrapping an arm around her waist as she turned to face him.
She blinked up at him—eyes red, lips swollen, mascara smudged. The most beautiful fucking mess he’d ever seen.
He touched her cheek.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “No.”
He smiled faintly. “Same.”
They lay there in silence, hearts slowing. His hand slid into hers. She didn’t let go.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “About the divorce. About coming back.”
“I know.”
“I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
“Good,” she said, voice rough. “Because I’m tired of being alone.”
He kissed her forehead, then pulled her in tighter, their legs tangled in sweaty sheets and old guilt.
They didn’t sleep much.
But for the first time in weeks, she didn’t dream of fire.
And he didn’t feel like a ghost.
Just flesh. Just flawed.
