Page 102 of Requiem
He’s beautiful.
He settles between my thighs, the blankets tangling around us. He kisses me again just as he thrusts inside me in one smooth motion.
I yelp against his lips. The stretch is sudden and full, my body still sensitive from my orgasm, and he’s thick enough that it takes my breath away. He works deeper with a grunt, the sound strained. I can feel his arms trembling, and the tension in his shoulders. He wants to lose control. Wants itviolently. But he doesn’t.
His mouth drags from mine to my neck, each kiss open and hot, like he’s trying to remember that he’s here with me and not somewhere else. My mind flickers to the things I know about him. The things he’s done. The blood on his hands that no amount of time can wash clean.
His hips move with a hard, punishing rhythm that forces me deeper into the mattress, the bed creaking quietly beneath us with every impact. My legs lock tighter around his waist, ankles crossed at the small of his back.I can keep him here. I can keep him sane.
Right?
He nearly growls, the sound vibrating against my throat. He’s holding back so hard his whole body shakes with it, propped on one elbow while his other hand clamps onto my hip. Each thrust hits that devastating point inside me, the one that makes my vision break into a thousand glittering shards.
“You’re n—not a bad person,” I whisper. The words slip out before I can even think about their timing.
Everything stops.
His body goes completely still above me. His jaw locks so tight I can see the muscle jumping in his cheek. For a split second, his grip on my hiptightens. It’s not painful, but I feel how little it would take for it to become something else. The same hand that has been covered in blood. The same fingers that have—
His pupils blow wide.
“Emma.” My name is a warning. “You have no idea what I could do to you,” he rasps against my throat, scraping his teeth along my pulse point like a predator. “Life is easier to take than you think. Trust me.”
My breath stutters.
This isn’t a fantasy of violence. It feels like memory. His body still holds mine down, but there’s restraint in every inch of him. I think he might pull away or leave me here, cold and empty and aching in a way that has nothing to do with sex. Instead, something snaps inward.
He crushes his mouth back to mine like if he stops touching me, he’ll come apart. And beneath the heat and hunger of it, I taste something that breaks my heart.
Fear.
Notofme.Forme.
“Keep going,” I breathe against his lips.
His forehead presses to mine. His breath is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut like he suddenly can’t bear to look at me. And when he moves again it feels more dangerous than before. Not because the violence has left him. Because he’s forcing it into a cage. Every thrust is controlled and deliberate. Like he’s proving something to me. To himself. To whatever darkness lives inside him that he’s trying so desperately not to become.
The pressure builds again with his roughness.
It drags me under like a riptide, pleasure and terror and love all tangled together until I can’t tell them apart. I break around him, gasping, my body tightening in rhythmic pulses. He hisses through his teeth, a sound like restraint cracking at its seams, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth leaves mine just long enough to look at me. Hazel eyes burning into mine.
And for a terrifying, electrifying second, I realize the truth.
He’s not safe because he’s holding his demon back. He’s safe because he’s embracing it andchoosingto love me anyway.
His eyes dart between my eyes and my lips, raw lust and darkness warring in his expression. My fingers tighten on his biceps as I feel them tensebeneath my palms. Holding my gaze, he slams into me harder. Once. Twice. Three times. The last pulses of my orgasm squeeze around him, and he groans as he empties himself inside me.
His body shudders through the aftermath. We share soft kisses for minutes after. Breathing each other’s air. Tasting each other’s skin. Then, reluctantly, he pulls out and rolls to his side, tugging me against him. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling the blankets up over my shoulder, and his lips press to my hair.
“I love you, Em,” he whispers, but there’s a slight tremble in his voice.
My eyes are already growing heavy. My body is a warm, satisfied weight sinking into the mattress. “I love you too, Jude,” I murmur, nuzzling into the hollow of his shoulder.
I’m almost asleep when I feel his arm tighten around me. His breath goes shallow against my neck, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to be the man you deserve anymore.”
Chapter twenty-eight
JUDE GRAVES
