Page 286 of Legacy

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She cups my cheek, her thumb brushing beneath my eye. “Don’t hold back,” she whispers.

My eyes close.

I can’t breathe.

My hand slides beneath her thigh, fingers curling tight—not rough, just certain, and I shift us, moving slow, careful, never breaking the connection between us.

I guide her beneath me, our bodies still joined, still wrapped around the ache.

Not to dominate.

Not to control.

But because I need to see her like this. Need tofeelher beneath me, grounding me in a world I no longer know how to belong to.

Her breath catches, her legs still wrapped around me.

“Take what you need,” she whispers.

Just that.

No hesitation.

No plea.

And it ruins me.

Not because she’s giving herself to me.

But because she means it.

Because she sees the weight I won’t name and offers herself as the place I can finally set it down.

I press my forehead to hers, breath shaking, and thrust deep, slow like her body is the only prayer I’ve ever known how to say right.

Her hands slide up my arms, soft and sure, I pull back slightly and sink into her again with a groan that tastes like grief.

Fuck.

She’s heaven.

She’s ruin.

She’s every unspoken vow I’ve swallowed in silence.

Each thrust a whispered apology against her skin.

For every moment I let her go.

For every word I never said.

For every scar my silence carved into both of us.

I lose rhythm. Lose control.

But not in the way I usually do. This isn’t desperation.

It’s devotion.

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