Chapter 17 #2
"I told you what I want," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. "Nothing's changed." The reminder of his whispered confessions sends heat flooding through me. His free hand moves to my waist, fingertips pressing just hard enough to hint at the strength he's holding in check.
The last threads of my resistance dissolve beneath his touch. Instead of answering, I close the final distance, my lips finding his with newfound certainty.
Unlike our previous kisses—frantic in the storm, tentative in the generator's glow—this one simmers before it sparks.
His mouth claims mine, as if he's intent on tasting every part of me.
The hand at my waist tightens, drawing me closer but still maintaining that exquisite control that speaks of darker promises to come.
When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him without hesitation. He makes a sound low in his throat—approval and hunger mingled—before deepening the kiss, each movement a demonstration of exactly how thoroughly he intends to claim every part of me.
My palms glide up the solid wall of his chest, over the breadth of his shoulders. He gathers me closer, arms tightening until there's no space left, until the hard press of his body pins mine to the counter. The edge digs into my hips, but I don't care—I want the weight, the possession.
Heat blooms where his hand slips under my sweater, calloused fingertips tracing the bare skin at my lower back.
The contrast makes me shiver, arching into him, craving more.
He swallows the gasp I can’t contain, answering with a deeper sweep of his tongue, coaxing me open, leaving me dizzy with want.
He breaks away only to trail kisses along my jaw, his stubble scraping in delicious friction down the column of my throat. My head tips back, surrendering. He finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder and lingers, sucking lightly until pleasure sparks through me like electricity.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, anchoring him there, unwilling to let him go. His hands slide higher beneath my sweater, palms spreading wide against my ribcage, thumbs brushing the swell of my breasts. The involuntary gasp rips out of me, sharp and helpless.
That sound halts him. He lifts his head, breath ragged, eyes dark and unsteady as they lock on mine.
Desire crackles between us, sharp as lightning.
For a beat, neither of us moves. His question is unspoken, written in the tension of his body, the heat in his gaze—how far I’ll let him take this, how much I want.
“I want you,” I whisper, daring the words, daring him. “But…”
That single syllable stills him more effectively than if I’d pushed him away. His forehead drops to mine, both of us breathing hard, chests colliding with the force of restraint.
“That hesitation,” he rasps, voice rough as gravel, taut with control.
“That tiny pause tells me now isn’t the time.
” His thumb traces across my lower lip, swollen and trembling from his kiss.
“I don’t want part of you, Lily. I want all of you.
Not just the fire you give me when passion takes over.
I want your thoughts. Your doubts. Your fears.
I want to know what you crave—what terrifies you. Every part.”
His words undo me more completely than the press of his body ever could. Desire knots tighter inside me, not less, because his restraint feels as dangerous as his hunger. My body screams to keep going, to let him take me against the counter, to surrender to the heat clawing through my veins.
But he’s right. He’s always right. Because what he wants isn’t just a night stolen before he leaves in a few weeks. He wants something far more profound, something I don’t know if I can give without shattering.
My breath catches, my fingers still tangled in his hair.
"That's what scares me," I whisper, raw and unguarded. "That you'll see it all. That you'll know too much."
His gaze burns into mine, steady and relentless, as if he's already peeling back every secret I've buried. "That's exactly what I want," he says, voice low and certain. "All of you. The parts you're proud of and the parts you hide. The achievements and the failures."
His thumb traces my jawline, a touch both tender and possessive. "Every flaw, every fear, every doubt—I want to savor them all." His eyes never leave mine, unflinching in their intensity. "Nothing you show me will change what I want. Nothing."
The conviction in his voice steals my breath. No one has ever looked at me like this—as if I'm both a mystery to solve and a prize already claimed.
"Let me in," he murmurs, the command wrapped in velvet steel. "Because I don't just want your body against mine. I want your surrender. Your trust. Freely given. Without hesitation."
The words hit harder than his kiss, harder than the press of his body pinning me to the counter.
Because he could take me—right here, right now.
Every muscle in him vibrates with the restraint it takes not to.
His arousal throbs against me, undeniable proof of how much he wants.
And yet, he holds back, framing my face with hands that could cage but instead caress.
“I could have sex with you right now,” he admits, voice hoarse, eyes dark with hunger.
“But I don’t want your body if your mind isn’t there with me.
If your heart isn’t begging me to take you.
I want more than release. I want everything.
Your desires. Your fears. Every corner of you that you’ve never let another man touch. ”
Heat floods my skin at his words, at the naked truth in them. His control is a leash he refuses to drop, even though my body is already his, trembling with need, silently pleading.
His thumb traces along my cheek with surprising tenderness. "This is about what you truly want. I'll wait until you're ready to stop doubting yourself. Until you know with absolute certainty that this is what you want. No reservations, no holding back."
The intensity in his gaze makes it difficult to breathe. "I'm patient enough to wait for that moment. When you come to me fully present, without fear. That's when we'll truly begin."
His mouth brushes mine again, a torment of what he’s denying us both. “Until then,” he whispers, breath hot against my lips, “I’ll keep showing you exactly how much I want you… so that when you finally surrender, it’s not just your body I take. It’s everything.”
The raw promise in his voice makes my knees buckle, makes me cling to him even as he gently, deliberately begins to pull back. His control sears deeper than any kiss—because real dominance isn’t in taking what he wants. It’s in waiting until I’m desperate enough to give it all.
And, I’m ready.
Almost.