Page 192 of Buried in Blood
I kiss him.
And this time?
It’s not desperate. It’s not a war.
It’sdevotion.
His tongue sweeps against mine, claiming. Tasting. Memorizing.
I grind against him slowly, rolling my hips until he groans, low and guttural. His hands move to my ass, guiding me harder, deeper, until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
“I love how you ride me,” he says against my throat. “Like you fucking own me.”
“Maybe I do.”
“You’re goddamn right you do.”
I sink onto him in one long, slow motion—eyes locked, breath caught between us. He fills me in ways I can’t explain. Not just my body.Allof me. The broken. The bruised. The burning.
His hands find my waist.
My fingers thread into his hair.
We move together like we’ve been doing this for lifetimes—like our bodies are haunted by each other’s touch.
It builds slowly.
No rush.
No fear.
Only fire.
Onlyus.
And when I fall over the edge, it’s with his name on my lips and his hands anchoring me to this world.
Tohim.
He follows with a growl, burying himself deep, holding me like he’ll never let go.
And when it’s over—when the storm quiets and our skin is damp with sweat and love and everything in between—he kisses my shoulder, and whispers:
“You’re everything, princess.”
And in that moment?
I finally believe it.
57
Harmony
The nurse’s voice is gentle, almost reverent, as she wheels in the discharge papers.
“You’re free to go, Harmony.”
Free.
