Page 70 of Every Shattered Note
“I want you,” she says.“God, I—Dex, I want?—”
“I know,” I breathe, my mouth still against her skin.“I know, sweetheart.”
I move against her slowly, finding the rhythm that pulls another sound from her throat—half-plea, half-promise.Every breath she takes turns into something I can feel.The air thickens with it, heat rising between us until the whole world seems to narrow to the space where our bodies meet.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
Her eyes find mine, dark and wide and wrecked with want.My thumb traces a slow circle at her hip, coaxing another shiver.She trembles, caught between restraint and surrender.
“That’s it,” I murmur.“Stay with me.”
The sound she makes tears through me it’s so ragged, raw that it nearly undoes me.Her fingers cling to my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.And maybe it is.Her body goes still—taut, trembling—for one suspended second ...then she lets go.
She collapses against me.Spent.Trembling.Alive in a way that sets every nerve in me alight.
I hold her close.One arm locked around her waist, the other cradling her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek like I need her to feel me even when she can’t speak.
“Next time,” I whisper against her skin, my voice rough, “you’re coming in my mouth.”
She shudders.
And fuck, I mean it.I want to memorize every inch of her.I want to taste every place she hides.I want to worship her like she’s the only religion I’ve ever believed in.
Because this isn’t just lust.This isn’t just heat and sweat and hunger.
This is everything I didn’t let myself want.
And now she’s in my arms—wrecked, glowing, wrapped around me like I’m something she wants to hold onto—and I know.
I’m already fucked.
I want mornings like this.Afternoons where we don’t make it out of bed.Late nights where I get to watch her unravel in candlelight.I want to wake up to her humming off-key while brushing her teeth.I want to cook for her, make her laugh, and undo her with my hands a hundred different ways.
But more than anything, I want her to trust that this isn’t temporary.
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, just breathing her in.Her heartbeat is still fast against my chest.Mine’s no better.
She doesn’t say anything.Neither do I.
There’s no need to fill the silence.Not right now.
But in my head, it’s loud.
Don’t fuck this up.
Don’t let her slip through your fingers.
And it’s terrifying how much I already need her to stay.If only I knew how to keep her.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Alyssa
The day slips by in fragments.
The light has softened, curling around everything like a lover who doesn’t want to let go.The air clings, syrup-thick, threaded with lime and sea salt, smoke and sun.Everything feels dimmed but pulsing beneath the surface.Like the world’s paused just to see what we’ll do next.
Outside, the pool glows turquoise, dulled by the creeping dusk.Ripples drift lazily across its skin, like it’s still haunted by what we did there.The way we unraveled.Fell into each other with no map and no apologies.Wild.Breathless.Fucking gorgeous.
