Chapter 73 #2
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “And in seeing me, you turned me back into someone I thought I’d buried for good.”
He let out a slow breath. “You rewrote me, Emma.”
His other hand returned to my face, gentler this time. “You make me crave things I swore I’d never need.”
“You see past the charm. Past the rough edges and practiced confidence.” A faint, breathless laugh escaped him. “You’re not dazzled by it.” His fingers tightened slightly against my jaw. “You dismantle it.”
His eyes locked onto mine, steady and certain. “You have no idea how completely you own me, simply by existing in my world.”
Tears were streaming down my face, my heart unable to contain the emotion caused by his words.
“Trust me, Emma. I’m scared shitless to lose you too.
But we’ll fight it,” Caden said, his voice rough with quiet desperation.
His hands tightened at my jaw like he could hold me together through sheer will, his thumbs brushing over the tear tracks on my cheeks.
“I promise you, whatever future we saw, we’ll fight it together. ”
His forehead dropped to mine again; his breath ragged against my skin. His grip tightened like he was trying to steady himself.
“Don’t do this, baby” he murmured. “Don’t deny us.”
My breath broke on a sharp, shaky exhale.
“Choose me,” he whispered. His forehead pressed hard against mine again. “My amazing, brilliant, gorgeous Nightcrawler.”
A wet laugh broke from my throat, half-sob, half-relief.
My mouth trembled as I tried to breathe around the pressure swelling in my chest. “We really need to find you a new nickname for me.”
His lips curved, soft and almost reverent. “We can renegotiate,” he murmured, “if you come to Crown with me.”
I stared at this beautiful man as my mind worked through all he said.
Was he right? Could we really do this?
Could I trust him to keep us safe, to keep himself safe? Did I trust us more than fragments of visions and half-formed futures that haunted my sleep? More than the idea that loving him might cost us both everything?
Did I trust what we had was strong enough—that we were smart enough—to survive whatever hell the future would inevitably throw at us?
And finally, stripped of fear and strategy and survival, did I want this?
Did I want him, and us, and all the risk that came with it?
I stared up at him, at the raw intensity in his beautiful eyes, the way he was holding himself together by sheer will, and the chaos in my chest finally settled.
Because the answer—to every single question—was irrevocably yes.
My gaze dropped to his mouth, and I knew he felt it too. The shift.
The weight of my choice settled fully into my bones. And then I finally let myself say it, quietly but without hesitation.
“Deal.”
Caden stilled.
His chest rose with a deep, deliberate breath, as if that one word had undone him.
For half a heartbeat, he looked at me—like he was afraid to move, afraid to breathe—before his eyes flared with everything he hadn’t dared hope for. Relief. Want. Devotion. The fierce, dangerous promise of us locking into place.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, firm and sure now, like he didn’t want to risk letting me go. My heart slammed painfully against my chest as he leaned in, so close his breath skimmed my lips, his scent—blackcurrant and charcoal, dark and smoky—completely consuming.
“Glad that’s settled,” he said quietly, his voice rougher now, edged with something deeper. “But there’s one more thing.”
I barely dared to move. “What is it?” I whispered, already breathless.
His gaze sharpened, something dangerous settling back into place. “I don’t tolerate lies in my Collective, Emma,” he said, his tone calm in a way that made my stomach tighten. “Not even the ones you tell yourself.”
The heat between us surged like it had a will of its own. He was inches from me now, no space, no air, no time left to pretend.
His other hand rose, fingers skimming the side of my throat, slowly.
“What would I lie about?” My heart was pounding so loud I couldn’t think. He was so close, and all I could think was, not close enough.
His mouth brushed my ear, breath scorching hot. “You’d lie about pretty much everything.”
I closed my eyes, drowning in him, the promise something wicked flooding my system.
His nose dragged slowly down to the spot right beneath my ear, where he inhaled deeply, groaned like he couldn’t help himself.
“Tell me you don’t want to be with me,” he murmured, lips grazing my neck.
A tremble ran down my spine, and I instinctively tilted my head to give him more access, barely stopping the moan rising in my throat.
“Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now,” he growled, teeth scraping against my skin before he bit, not hard, but enough to make me gasp. It was a mark. A claim. A brand.
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.
His were molten, rage and need and something deeper, something vulnerable. “Tell me you don’t love me.”
I stared up at him, trembling. “I can’t.”
His eyes darkened. “Why not?”
“Because you told me not to lie.”
He didn’t hesitate.
His lips crashed into mine, hard, fast, and devastating.
Caden devoured me.
His hand still at the back of my head threaded into my hair, pulling it, holding me exactly where he wanted me. The other was still clamped around my throat—firm, not cruel, but absolute—keeping me still as his tongue demanded entrance.
He kissed me like he was punishing me for every moment we’d spent apart. Tongue thrusting into my mouth, biting my lip, breathing me in like I was oxygen and fire at the same time.
Pleasure pooled in my stomach and shot between my thighs like a spark catching gasoline. I shifted against him, seeking it, chasing the friction.
I moaned into him, and that sound shattered whatever restraint he had left. He slammed me back until my spine met the wall, his thigh sliding between mine, locking me in place.
“You moan like that again,” he growled, teeth scraping my jaw, “and I’m going to lose whatever control I have left.”
I moaned.
Of course I did.
I moaned into his mouth—a raw, breathless, aching—and Caden snapped.
The sound tearing from his chest was feral, guttural, like an animal unleashed.
His hands moved lower, gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. I wrapped my legs around him; my back still pressed against the wall, his body firm and unyielding.
He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath ragged as he whispered, “You’re mine, Emma. All mine.”
His words made me dizzy with need, and I nodded, unable to speak, completely undone by him. And I realized, there wasn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do for him.
He crossed the room, tossed me onto the bed with a quick, fluid motion, his gaze fixed on me, raw and unrelenting.
“You want this?” he asked, as his breath came in harsh, labored pants. His expression was fierce, almost angry, but I knew that was just the passion that boiled beneath the surface.
I held his stare, feeling my heartbeat pounding in every inch of my body. Slowly, I tugged my shirt over my head, leaving me in my bra. Then I reached behind to unclasp the cutch, letting it fall away. His gaze darkened further, devouring every inch of skin I revealed.
I shimmied out of the bottoms, meeting his eyes with a challenging look.
“Caden. I want you to make me scream so loud, even the walls remember your name,” I said, the words a rough, throaty plead.
His fists clenched at his sides, his entire body taut with desire. His eyes, now nearly black with need, roamed over me, hungry and possessive.
“I’m gonna make you come on my tongue. Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll feel me all week. If it gets to be too much, you tap out.”
I swallowed, nerves and excitement blending into something electric.
With a deep, hungry growl, he spread my legs, and I could do nothing but watch as his mouth seared heat against my skin. His tongue dragged around my clit, then flicked it, again and again, each brush sending sparks through me.
I couldn’t breathe, not with his mouth on me, not with the heat building so fast it was already threatening to break.
He groaned against me, the sound vibrating right through my core, and I gasped as his tongue dipped lower, circling, stroking, devouring.
“Fuck, baby…” he murmured, lips brushing right where I needed him most. “You’re soaked for me.”
He kissed the inside of my thigh—once, twice—then shifted, and I felt the blunt press of his fingers at my entrance.
“In?” he asked, leaving no room to misunderstand.
I could barely speak. “Yes. Please. I need—”
That was all he needed.
He thrusted two fingers deep inside me, slow but firm, and I cried out, hips rocking against his hand as he curled them just right.
The stretch had me moaning, breath hitching, back arching as he began to move, deep, steady pumps that had me unraveling fast, his thumb circling my clit with maddening precision.
“Fuck—Caden—” I gasped, clawing at the cushion beneath me. “I’m—”
“I know, baby,” he whispered, his voice wrecked with want. “You’re doing so fucking good for me.”
And then he added a third finger.
My whole body tightened around him, pleasure slicing through me like lightning. The stretch was intense, sweet, filthy, perfect.
His breath was hot against my wetness before he pressed his tongue flat, claiming every inch, and sliding his fingers deep inside me.
The pressure and rhythm were delicious, perfect, and I felt myself unravel.
“Tell me my home’s yours, Emma. Tell me you’re choosing this. Us.”
I moaned, and my hips arched, but right before I reached that pinnacle, he retreated and caught my gaze.
“Tell me.”
I swallowed hard, but I didn’t blink. “You are my home…my love.”
Caden let out a low growl, then turned me around, my stomach flat on the bed, his palm landing with a hard smack on my ass.
“Up. Spread those cheeks for me,” he ordered low, and raw with desire. “I want to see every single inch of you.”