Page 282 of Eternal
“I want you to touch me,” I whispered. “But I want it to feel likethis. Like it’s mine too. Like I’m not being used. Like I’myours.”
He leaned in, his lips just brushing mine. “You are,” he said softly. “You’ve been mine since the first time you laughed at one of my terrible attempts to seduce you.”
My eyes stung. “Then make it okay. Makemeokay.”
He came closer, pressing his forehead gently to mine. And just like that, something broke open in me. I wasn’t frozen, I wasn’tgone, I was right here, in myownskin, inhisarms.
“Kiss me, now.”
And he did, deeper this time, slower. His tongue danced against mine sensually, like he meant to make up for every time he hadn’t kissed me.
I curled my leg around his waist again, grinding up into him just to hear him hiss through his teeth.
“Keep doing that,” he muttered against my throat, “and I’m not going to last long enough to show you half the things I’ve imagined doing to you.”
“You imagined it?” I teased, smiling against his jaw.
He bit my shoulder, not hard, but shy almost. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
He stilled, his hand slid down, found my thigh, and gripped. “Say that again.”
“Make.Me,” I repeated, quieter now, more honest.
He sat back on his knees, dragging me up with him, so I ended up straddling his lap, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, not rough, just…there.
“Partner?” he murmured. “You think I haven’t stared at your mouth and thought about shutting you up with my fingers, with my cock, with anything that would make you stop smiling at me like you knew how much I wanted you?”
I blinked, probably blushing too hard at the way he easily expressed his thoughts.
“You’re very loud all of a sudden,” I said weakly.
“That’s because I finally get to stop pretending I don’t want you.”
His hand slid lower, over my stomach, between my legs.
“And you don’t wantsoft.”
“No,” I whispered.
“You wantbrutal.”
I nodded. This ismine. My anger, my pain, my body, not my demons, not the past.
“You want me to fuck you like I’ve been mad at you since the day we met.”
“Because you have been,” I said, smirking again.
He laughed, dark and broken. “And so have you.”
His hand trailed down, knuckles skimming under the hem of my shirt, slow, patient. No sudden movements. Just feeling. Like he wanted to memorize the map of me before crossing any borders.
I tensed when his hand slid lower…there, where my skin was still inked with old pain.
His thumb brushed over the scars. And he stopped immediately. Didn’t pull back, didn’t ask. Just… paused.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, almost too quiet. “Just… don’t make it a thing.”
