Page 149 of Ruined Vows
“Are you sure?” he rasps. “Tell me, ljubavi. Tell me you want this.”
I arch into him. “I want you. I want all of you.”
That’s all it takes. And this time his kisses are fiercer, and his hands move with purpose, sliding over my nipples, baring more than my body to his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he breathes.
I trace his face with my fingertips, memorizing, claiming. He shudders under my touch, his hands finding my face, brushing my cheeks.
I run my hand over his chest and through the tufts of hair. His eyes never leave mine. His body steals my breath—hard muscle, scattered scars—a brutal, beautiful story written on his skin.
“You’re sure?” he asks again.
I answer with a kiss that says everything.
He groans, then he’s stripping the space between us. His mouth trails fire down my neck, my collarbone, and lower. When he joins his body to mine, it’s everything. He moves with a desperation that mirrors my own, each thrust unraveling me. His hands grip my hips. His mouth finds mine, stealing cries, giving his own.
It’s wild. Raw. Real. It’s more than a need.
It’s surrender.
When I fall apart in his arms, he follows, murmuring my name like a vow. We collapse together, tangled and breathless. He doesn’t let me go. And I don’t want him to.
The room hushes, and only our breathing remains. His arm wraps around me, fingers tracing slow patterns on my spine. I press my face against his chest, lulled by his heartbeat.
He finds my hand and brings it to his lips. “You’re mine now,” he says against my skin. “Mine.”
It should scare me. But it doesn’t. I nod, unable to speak. My silent submission. He tilts my chin, his eyes burning into mine.
“You scare the hell out of me,” I whisper.
He smiles, just a little, but his gaze stays serious. “Good. You terrify me, too.”
I let out a breathless laugh. Then he kisses me again, soft and slow, memorizing. We lie face to face, fingers trailing, eyes locked. The world could fall apart, and I wouldn’t care. Not as long as he’s here. Not as long as I’m his.
Then, he says. “I’m never letting you go, Bianca.”
And I know it’s a promise. It’s his vow to me. And I believe him. I curl into him, let myself rest. And I don’t dream of blood. I dream of him. Of us. Of something real.
When I wake up, sunlight spills across the sheets. I turn my head. He’s already awake, watching me. Tousled hair. Bare chest. Stubble shadow covers his jaw. He’s beautiful. A flush rises to my cheeks. I duck my head.
His fingers find my chin. “Hey. No hiding.”
I meet his gaze, and I don’t see regret. There’s no awkwardness—only him.
“You’re beautiful when you blush,” he says, smirking. “Almost makes me want to see how many more times I can make you do it.”
Heat floods me. I punch his chest, but he laughs, catches my hand, and kisses my knuckles. The tenderness steals my breath.
“This wasn’t just—” I start.
“It wasn’t just sex,” he says firmly. “Not to me.”
My heart clenches.
He leans close, cradling my face. “I want all of you. Not just your body. Not just your nightmares. You.”
Tears sting, but I blink them back. I kiss him, pouring everything I can’t say into that touch.
