Page 174 of Ruined Vows
Bianca
His arms wrap around me like armor, steady and strong. He doesn’t speak as he carries me, just breathes—deep, controlled. But I feel the weight of my words in the silence between us.
Don’t die.
He touches me gently, like I’m breakable, though we both know I’m not. Not anymore. He brushes my hair from my face and looks at me like I’m made of stars and blood and every vow he never dared to speak aloud.
He rips my clothes off—a man who’s hungry for me—a man who wants me as much as he does his next breath.
His gaze holds me captive, my body trembles under his touch.“You’re mine,” he says.
The word hits me like lightning. I want to deny it, scream that I can't be his weakness, I can't afford to be anyone's. But my body betrays me—heat coils low in my belly, my breathing becomes shallow.
He climbs onto the bed behind me, his hand sliding from the nape of my neck down the curve of my spine, a path of fire. He presses his chest to my back, lips brushing my ear.
“You say you don’t want to be my burden,” he whispers, voice molten. “But you already are. The sweetest one I’ve ever carried.”
My breath catches, but he doesn’t stop. His hand moves around, teasing between my legs, stroking softly—just enough to make me squirm.
“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me who owns this body.”
I bite back a moan, refuse at first. But then he pinches, just enough pain to send pleasure spiraling, and the words slip out like a confession.
“You. It’s yours.”
He groans, satisfied. “Damn right it is.”
He thrust inside me.
“You begged me not to die,” he says, voice strained. “Now, let me ruin you.”
And when he takes me, it’s not gentle. It’s claiming. Raw. Honest. Every thrust is a vow he doesn’t need words to make.
I cry out, bound and bared, and he drinks it in like worship. His hands grip my hips tightly, dragging me back to meet him over and over, until I’m nothing but sensation, unraveling.
“You feel that?” he pants. “That’s what you do to me. You make me fucking lose control.”
“Good,” I gasp, needing him deeper. “Then lose it. For me.”
He growls, animal and human and holy all at once. And when we come undone, it’s not just bodies breaking—it’s everything. It’s trust. It’s surrender. It’s the truth I still can’t say out loud.
But I think he hears it anyway.
Later in the night, we are awakened by the thunder as a summer storm rolls in.
“I love the sound of thunder and rain,” I say.
“Me, too. Can’t sleep?”
“I have something to tell you.”
“I hope it’s good news for a change.”
He pulls me to him and tugs the sheet over my shoulders.
“The best,” I whisper. “I’m pregnant.”
The silence between us isn’t long. In the flickering light from lightning, I see him.
