Page 41 of Gonzo's Grudge
And still—his eyes.
Even when his mouth roamed lower, even when my body arched and shook, he kept lifting his gaze back to mine, needing the connection. His eyes locked to mine like an anchor, like he didn’t just want my body, he wanted all of me.
I let him see it. I let him own it. The part of me that was terrified. The part of me that was brave. The part of me that had never believed in anyone this much.
When he slid inside me, it wasn’t just heat and pressure—it was a claiming, a binding, a truth I couldn’t turn away from. My hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, but my eyes never left his.
“Gabriel,” I gasped, his name breaking from me like a prayer.
“Mine,” he growled, his voice guttural, raw.
And in that moment, I knew he wasn’t just talking about my body. He meant my faith. My trust. My soul.
The rhythm built, fire and friction, but it wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, something I couldn’t name. Every thrust felt like a vow, every kiss a promise he didn’t know how to speak out loud.
Pleasure rushed through me sharp and unstoppable, but it wasn’t just pleasure—it was love. Wild, reckless, terrifying love. It broke me open and remade me, left me clinging to him with tears streaking my cheeks, overwhelmed by how much I felt in this moment.
He saw them, of course. He always saw. His pace slowed, his hand brushing the wetness from my face, his lips pressing to my temple. “IvaLeigh…” he murmured, voice shaking like he hadn’t expected this either.
I kissed him, hard and desperate. “Don’t stop. Please.”
His control snapped. He drove into me harder, faster, but his eyes never left mine. Even as I fell apart again, my vision blurring, he held me there, made sure I saw him, made sure I knew this was more than heat, more than need.
When he finally groaned my name and followed me over the edge, collapsing against me, it felt like the world had shifted.
The room was quiet except for our breathing, ragged and uneven, hearts pounding in sync. Sweat cooled on my skin, but I didn’t shiver—not with his weight pressing me into the mattress, his arms caging me in, his body still inside mine like he couldn’t bear to let go.
I turned my head, pressing my lips to his temple. His eyes were closed, but his hand still gripped mine, our fingers laced tight.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel small or lost.
I felt strong. Claimed. Loved, even if he couldn’t say the word.
I traced his jaw with my fingertips, memorizing the roughness of his beard, the scars, the man who was both danger and safety.
“I love you,” I whispered before I could stop myself. The words slipped out raw, unplanned, but true.
His eyes opened, blazing, locking on mine. He didn’t say it back. I hadn’t expected him to. But the way he kissed me then—slow, deep, endless—told me I didn’t need him to.
Because I already knew.
Chapter 14
Gonzo
One month.
One month of waking up with her body tangled in mine, her warmth soft against the cold edges of who I was. One month of watching her fall asleep with her cheek on my chest, like she believed in me enough to make me her shelter. One month of telling myself I was only taking what I could before the reality of who I was ripped it away.
That morning, I woke the way every man wants to—her straddling me, hair tumbling over her shoulders, lips curved in that wicked little smile she didn’t even know she had. The blanket had slipped down to her waist, and sunlight caught the curve of her collarbone, painting her like something holy.
“Morning,” she whispered, leaning down to brush her mouth against mine.
My hands slid over her thighs, rough palms against smooth skin. “Best damn alarm clock I ever had.”
She laughed, low and soft, and started to roll her hips, teasing. My body answered instantly, heat shooting through me, need winding tight.
And then I heard it.
