Page 199 of Scarlet Wars
He groaned—deep, wrecked—when I lined him up to my center and sank down on him. Slow at first, dragging out the stretch, making him feel every inch.
Then I slammed down hard.
He cursed, hips bucking up into me as I rode him without mercy. Fast. Deep. Desperate. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, our ragged breaths, the frantic rhythm of my body taking what it needed.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes wild. “Just like that.”
I moved faster.
His hands broke free, gripping my ass, pulling me down harder with every thrust as he drove up to meet me.
We were nothing but heat and sweat and filthy, feral need, and we were both right there on the edge.
It was fast, and hot. Desperate.
He pinched my nipples, hard enough to make me cry out, then shoved two fingers into my mouth.
“Suck,” he growled.
And I did, wet, eager, my tongue curling around him as I moaned around his fingers. His eyes burned into mine, wild and possessive, as he fucked up into me like he owned every inch.
“Come with me,” I gasped around his hand, body clenching tight, shaking.
And when it hit—white-hot and blinding—I came undone around him.
He followed a heartbeat later, slamming up into me one last time as he spilled inside, a guttural growl ripped from his throat.
I collapsed against his chest, breathless, slick with sweat, both of us shaking, wrecked in the best possible way.
We stayed like that for a while—me still on top of him, him still inside me—as I listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my ear.
Every night for the past three days, I’d fallen asleep like this: spent, safe, dreamless. No nightmares. No ghosts clawing their way in. Just him.
And Gods, I was addicted to it. Tohim. To the silence that only seemed to exist in his arms.
With a lazy flick of my wrist, I summoned the covers, draping them over us like a shield. “I should go sleep in my own room,” I mumbled, though even I didn’t believe it, as my voice slurred around a yawn, my body already melting back into his.
Caden chuckled, low and warm. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
I lifted my head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we keep this up, people are going to find out about us.”
“How?” he said with a smirk. “I soundproofed the room, and you’ve got a permanent hologram and alarm system rigged in yours.”
I yawned for real this time, then rolled off him and tucked myself into the space between his chest and neck, my favorite place to be.
“Fine,” I muttered. “I didn’t want to leave anyway.”
He laughed, that deep, gravelly sound that always made my stomach flutter. “Then stay right here, love. Stay with me.”
“Always,” I whispered, lids already drifting shut.
The last thing I felt was his lips on my forehead and the way he pulled me closer, like letting go wasn’t even an option.
FORTY-FIVE
EMMA
The weeks that followed were some of the best of my life, which was an unexpected, almost impossible reprieve after months spent drowning in grief so heavy it had felt like I’d never breathe right again.
