Chapter 30
JAVIER
Renée lay beside me, plopped on her stomach, her head turned slightly toward me. The duvet pooled at her waist, barely clinging to her, and her blonde hair fell like a wave across her back, glinting in the light. She was breathtaking. Not in that polished, magazine-cover way, but in the kind of way that made my chest ache just looking at her. Peaceful. Untouchable. Yet here she was, lying beside me, and I didn’t know how the hell I’d gotten so lucky.
She looked calm now, like some angel who didn’t have a single sharp edge. But last night? Last night was anything but calm. My back and arms still bore the marks—scratches that stung like hell but only served to remind me of how fiercely she burned. That fire, that unrelenting need to prove her point—it had turned into something raw, something unfiltered between us. She hadn’t let me rest for a damn second. Her nails had dragged across my shoulders like she was trying to carve her name into me as if she needed to make sure I’d never forget exactly who I belonged to.
Not that I needed the reminder. The idea of anyone else didn’t just feel wrong—it felt repulsive. Like I’d sooner gouge my eyes out than spare someone else a glance.
And I didn’t mind. Hell, I loved it. Every ounce of her temper, every spark of fury in her eyes, every wild, untamable thing about her made me want her more. She wasn’t soft, wasn’t easy, and thank God for that. I didn’t want it easy. I wanted her, exactly as she was, rage and all. And that fire wasn’t just something I endured; it was something I craved.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, lighting up with a notification. I reached over and checked the screen, my lips twitching into a satisfied smirk. Two weeks. Two weeks of grinding, chasing leads, and piecing together fragments, and now it had all fallen into place. I finally had what I needed. The plan was ironclad, every detail accounted for. Proving Renée’s innocence was no longer a question—it was a certainty. And as for Wane? That bastard wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.
Renée stirred beside me, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she turned onto her side. Her hand flopped onto my torso, her fingers curling slightly as she nuzzled closer, her cheek brushing against my ribs. It was such a simple thing, so small, but it hit me like a punch to the ribs.
I’d fallen. Hard. Completely.
I wasn’t the kind of man who believed in fate or destiny, but damn it, I couldn’t deny what was right in front of me. I’d never felt like this before, never wanted someone the way I wanted her. And it wasn’t just about how she made me feel physically—though that sure as hell was part of it. It was everything. Her strength. Her mind. Her fire. She consumed me in every way a person could be consumed.
And more than that, I wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep her safe, no matter what it took. I’d spent years building walls around myself so high I thought no one could ever climb them. But Renée? She hadn’t just scaled those walls; she’d burned them to the ground, and I didn’t even care.
I shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering on her cheek. She stirred again, murmuring something unintelligible, and I couldn’t help but smile. I didn’t deserve her. But I’d fight like hell to keep her.
My thumb brushed over her cheekbone down to her lips. “You are going to ruin me, Renée.” I murmured under my breath.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked groggily at me. “Morning,” she murmured.
“Good morning,” I replied, my tone quieter than I intended.
I couldn’t look away from her. She was chaos and calm all at once, a contradiction I could never tire of. She stretched lazily, shifting onto her back, the soft light playing over her skin. My gaze traced her—the faint marks I’d left on her neck, her shoulder, the shadow of them still faintly visible along her collarbone.
I wasn’t proud of how much I liked that. How much I liked seeing my marks all over her body. But hell, I loved it. And I loved it more knowing she was still here. Still mine. For however long this lasted, I wasn’t letting go.
She turned her head slightly, her lips curling into a small, sleepy smile. “You’re staring.”
I shrugged, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from twitching. “Can you blame me?”
I flipped a pancake, letting it settle on the plate before glancing at Renée. She was perched at the counter, one knee tucked up, her chin resting on it, and her gaze fixed squarely on me.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Just stared at me like I’d hung the damn stars. It sent a strange thrill crawling up my spine, a warmth settling low in my stomach.
“What?” I finally asked, unable to keep the smile from tugging at my lips.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head but never looking away.
“Seriously, love. What’s on your mind?” I pressed, setting the plate in front of her.
She finally broke her stare, looking down at the stack of pancakes. Instead of answering, she picked up her fork and started eating, each movement unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. I leaned against the counter, watching her, and damn if I didn’t feel something close to contentment.
This. This was it. Waking up next to her warm, naked body tangled in my sheets, cooking her breakfast while she lounged in nothing but my shirt. Watching her sit there, her skin still marked by the traces of last night—my marks. I wanted to bottle this moment, keep it forever. If it meant more mornings like this, I’d give up everything I had.
“Now you’re staring,” she said, glancing up with a smirk and I chuckled, leaning closer.
Her smile softened, her fork clinking against the plate as she set it down. “Thank you.”
I frowned. “For what?”
“For this.” She gestured around the room—the food, the quiet morning, me.
“You make it sound like no one’s ever cooked you breakfast before,” I said, sliding into the chair beside her.
“Well,” she started, spearing another piece of pancake, “I’ve had chefs cooking for me my entire life. But this?” She gestured again, her fork waving in the air. “This is different.”
I leaned back. “You can count on many more mornings like this. I promise.”
She glanced at me, a smile tugging at her lips as she stuffed another bite into her mouth. But my focus wasn’t on her face anymore. My gaze wandered, tracing the curve of her bare shoulders, the faint swell of her breasts peeking out from the neckline of my shirt, and the long stretch of her legs, smooth and inviting.
God, she could just sit there, breathing, and I’d lose my damn mind.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, her plate empty now, her tone teasing.
“My breakfast,” I said, the corner of my mouth quirking up.
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smug smile. “Too bad. I don’t remember being on the menu.”
“Oh, you’re definitely on the menu,” I shot back, reaching for her. But before I could grab her, she pressed her foot to my chest, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“So desperate,” she teased, leaning forward just enough to give me an unabashed view of her cleavage.
My jaw clenched, heat flaring low in my stomach. She knew exactly what she was doing. I grasped her ankle, my lips brushing against the smooth skin of her leg. Her eyes stayed locked on mine as I kissed up her calf, slow, deliberate.
The teasing could go on forever, and maybe it would if I wasn’t already so damn hungry for her. With a growl, I grabbed just below her knee and yanked her toward me, the chair scraping against the floor as I pulled her in.
She let out a surprised yelp, her hands flying to my shoulders as I wrapped my arms around her waist and crushed my mouth to hers. She melted into the kiss, soft and pliant, her body fitting against mine like it was meant to be there.
I grabbed her, yanked her up, and planted her on the kitchen counter. Her gasp filled the room when her bare ass met the cold surface, her wide eyes locking onto mine.
“Javier!” she breathed, but there was no protest in her tone—just anticipation.
I didn’t waste a second. I dropped to my knees between her legs, pulling them apart with a firm grip. She was already soaked, her slick pussy calling to me, her body begging for what I’d been dying to give her.
The moment my tongue slid over her clit, she let out a moan that sent a jolt of fire straight to my gut. Her body jerked against me, her fingers diving into my hair, pulling me closer as if she couldn’t bear the thought of me stopping.
I wasn’t planning to.
I swirled my tongue over her swollen clit, savoring every desperate little sound spilling from her lips. Then I sealed my mouth around it, sucking hard, letting my hunger for her take over. Her taste was addictive, intoxicating, and I couldn’t get enough.
When I pressed a finger to her entrance and slid it in, the wet heat of her clenched around me like she never wanted to let go. I curled my finger, searching for that perfect spot, and when I found it, she bucked against me, her moans turning into cries.
“Don’t stop,” she panted. “Don’t slow down—I’m so close!”
Her hips moved in time with my fingers, her thighs trembling against my shoulders. The pitch of her moans climbed, each one sharper, needier, until her whole body tensed, her muscles locking around me as she shattered.
“Fuck, Renée,” I groaned against her as I felt her pulse and quiver around my hand. Her release coated my fingers, dripping onto the counter beneath her. She was a mess, a beautiful, perfect mess that I created with my fingers and tongue, and I couldn’t stop staring.
She was still catching her breath when I leaned in again, my tongue tracing over her quivering pussy, lapping up every drop of her cum. She whimpered, her hand tugging on my hair, but I didn’t stop until she was clean—until I was sure I’d tasted every bit of her.
When I finally stood, her flushed face tilted up to meet mine, her lips parting just enough for me to crash my mouth against hers. Her moan vibrated through me as she tasted herself on my lips, her hands clutching my shoulders to pull me closer.
“You drive me insane,” I murmured against her mouth.
“And you love it,” she whispered back, a smirk playing at the corners of her swollen lips.
She wasn’t wrong. God help me, she wasn’t wrong.
I picked her up again. Turned her. Bent her over the counter, her chest pressing flat against the cool surface, her perfect ass up, legs spread just the way I needed.
And fuck, the sight of her—her wet, glistening pussy dripping with renewed need—nearly undid me right there.
I didn’t waste a damn second. I lined myself up and buried myself inside her in one smooth, desperate thrust.
“Fuck,” I groaned, the tight heat of her wrapping around me like she was made for me.
Renée’s moan tore through the air, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter as her body adjusted to mine. The sound was raw, unfiltered, and it only drove me deeper, harder, until nothing existed but the feel of her and the way our bodies moved together.
Her hips pushed back against me, meeting me thrust for thrust, her breath coming out in uneven gasps. “Javier,” she whimpered, and it wasn’t just my name—it was a plea, a challenge, a surrender all at once.
The room filled with the sounds of us—skin meeting skin, our voices mingling in moans and curses. She was mine in every way that mattered, and I wasn’t going to let her forget it. Not now, not ever.