Page 143 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

His eyes are unfocused now, his breathing has ramped up, and there’s a glimmer of sweat on his inked chest. I run my fingertips along the lines of the angel wing tattoo he told me never to ask about again.

And at the same time, I drop my hips down flush against his and let the man I love fill me completely.

He tries to say my name again—“Elyssa”—but I silence him with a kiss. This isn’t a time for talking. I’m too terrified of what I might say if I open my lips again.

Instead, I start riding him with an intensity that I didn’t realize I possessed. It feels euphoric to take control, to go at my own pace, to chase pleasure for pleasure’s sake.

To fuck when you’re horny.

The whole time, Phoenix watches me, his hands tight on my hips. I put my palms on his chest and start bucking against him so hard that I have to arch my back and turn my head up to the stars.

That’s how I come—moaning up at the moon.

I lean in after his orgasm spurts up inside me. I kiss his brow and his neck, his hair and his jaw, his lips. As much of him as I can get. I drink in his scent and try to commit his features to memory.

Tell him you love him. Tell him now, before it’s too late.

Charity is right. I should.

But the words don’t come. Apparently, there are things I’m still not brave enough for.

It’s okay, sunshine. You’ll get another chance to say them.

She sounds sure. But I know she’s wrong.

I’ve said my piece.

And now, I’ve said goodbye.

35

Phoenix

The Next Morning—Phoenix’s Bedroom

When I wake up, she’s gone.

I look over to the other side of the bed. I’d laid her down there just a few hours ago. She’d be breathing softly and I was sure she was asleep. I undressed as quietly as I could so as not to wake.

When I turned around, though, I could swear that for one brief instant, I saw her eyes open.

And they were the saddest amber I’ve ever seen.

But then I blinked and she was asleep again. Or maybe I imagined the whole thing. I’d dismissed it, slid under the covers, and fallen asleep next to her.

Now, I’m wondering if I missed a sign.

I launch myself out of bed and pull on my pants and shirt. Several of my men are patrolling the corridors when I emerge, waiting for their orders to be handed out. But I ignore all of them. I need to find out where she is.

I burst into her room, my eyes scanning every inch of the space even as my body registers her stark absence.

The room is empty. It feels like it’s stood empty for a very long time.

Even her scent is gone.

“Elyssa?”

Of course she doesn’t answer.

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