He held me like I might disappear.
In our room, with the door locked and the fire crackling low, Darien loved me with a tenderness that made my chest ache. Every touch was deliberate. Every kiss lingered. His hands mapped my skin as though memorizing the geography of my body, committing every curve and line to a place deeper than memory.
Neither of us spoke about the morning. We didn't need to. The bond carried everything between us, a current of love and determination that made words feel small.
When he entered me, I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved slowly, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath mingling with mine in the narrow space between us. This wasn't the desperate urgency of our first time together. This was something else entirely. A conversation spoken
