Chapter 2- PHOENIX #2
I consider lying. Putting on the mask I've worn my entire life, the one that says nothing ever touches me, nothing ever gets through. But she deserves better than that. She deserves the truth, or at least as much of it as I can give her.
"I'm not calm," I admit. "I'm terrified. But not about the police or the evidence or getting caught." I turn her face toward me, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I'm terrified of losing you. That's the only thing that scares me anymore."
Something shifts in her expression. The fear doesn't disappear, but it softens into something else. Something warmer.
"Phoenix."
"I'd burn the world down for you." The words come out rough, barely controlled. "I told you that, and I meant it. There is nothing I won't do to keep you safe. Nothing."
She doesn't answer. Instead she leans in and presses her lips to mine.
The kiss starts soft, tentative. A question more than an answer. But then her hands are in my hair and mine are pulling her closer and the desperation we've both been holding back finally breaks free.
I need her. I need to feel her alive and warm and real against me. I need to remind myself why I did what I did, why I would do it again, why none of the fear or uncertainty matters as long as I have her.
I pull her tank top over her head and she reaches for my shirt. We undress each other slowly, reverently, like we're performing some sacred ritual. Her hands shake as they trace down my chest. Mine aren't steady either.
"I need you," she breathes against my neck. "Please."
The word undoes me.
I ease her back onto the pillows, settling over her, drinking in every detail of her face. She looks up at me, her eyes full trust and need and something that might be love. The morning light catches the tears clinging to her lashes, and I kiss them away one by one.
"I've got you," I murmur against her skin. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”
She shivers beneath me, and I press my lips to the hollow of her throat where her pulse flutters.
I can feel her heartbeat against my mouth, rapid and urgent.
I trace my tongue along the delicate column of her neck, tasting salt and something sweet underneath that's purely her.
She tilts her head back to give me better access, a soft sound escaping her lips that goes straight to my core.
I take my time. We have nothing but time right now, this stolen morning where the rest of the world doesn't exist. My mouth travels lower, pressing kisses along her collarbone, pausing to nip gently at the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder.
She gasps and her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me closer.
Her tank top is in my way. I lean back just enough to pull it over her head, and she lifts her arms to help me.
The fabric falls somewhere beside the bed, forgotten instantly.
I look at her, really look at her, taking in the soft curves of her breasts, the way her chest rises and falls with each shaky breath.
She's perfect. She's everything.
I lower my mouth to her breast, circling my tongue around one peaked nipple before drawing it between my lips.
She arches into me with a moan that makes my entire body tighten.
I suck gently, then harder when her hips buck against mine.
My hand finds her other breast, cupping the soft weight of it, my thumb brushing across the sensitive peak until she's writhing beneath me.
I switch sides, giving her other nipple the same attention while she pulls at my shirt, her fingers clumsy with need.
I sit back long enough to yank it over my head and toss it aside.
Her hands immediately find my chest, her palms warm against my skin as they slide down over my stomach, tracing the lines of muscle with a reverence that makes me ache.
I want to worship every inch of her. I want to erase every nightmare, every fear, every shadow of what happened in that cabin that still haunts her. I want to replace it all with this, with pleasure and safety and the absolute certainty that she belongs to me.
My mouth continues its journey down her body, kissing across her ribs, the soft plane of her stomach, the dip of her waist. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her underwear and look up at her, silently asking permission. Her eyes are dark with want, her lips parted, and she lifts her hips.
I pull the fabric down her legs and let it drop to the floor. She's completely bare now, laid out before me like an offering, and for a moment I can only stare. The morning light catches the curves and hollows of her body, turning her skin to gold.
She reaches for me, her hands working at my waistband, and I help her push my boxers down.
When we're both finally naked, skin against skin, the feeling is overwhelming.
She's warm and soft everywhere I'm hard, and when she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer, I have to close my eyes and breathe through the surge of need that threatens to undo me.
I position myself at her entrance, feeling the heat of her against me. Our eyes meet. There's so much in her gaze: fear and hope and trust and something that looks like love. I want to be worthy of all of it.
When I finally slide inside her, we both gasp. Not from pleasure, though there's that too, but from relief. From the desperate need to be as close as two people can possibly be. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me deeper, her fingers digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
I move slowly at first. This isn't about urgency or release. This is about connection. About proving to each other that we're still here, still alive, still together despite everything trying to tear us apart.
Her breath catches as I find the rhythm she needs.
Her eyes flutter closed and then open again, fixing on mine like I'm the only anchor in a storm.
I want to tell her everything. That I've waited my whole life for her.
That I would kill a thousand men to keep her safe.
That she's the only thing that makes any of this matter.
Instead I kiss her, pouring everything I can't say into the press of my lips against hers.
She comes apart in my arms, crying my name, and I follow moments later, burying my face in the curve of her neck as my whole body shudders with the force of it.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the sheets, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. Neither of us speaks. The silence feels sacred, too precious to break.
The world is still out there, waiting to crash back in. The detectives and their questions. The investigation that's only just beginning. There are a thousand ways this could still go wrong.
But for now, in this moment, there's only her.
Only us.
I press a kiss to the top of her head and let my eyes close.
Sleep finally comes, deep and dreamless, with her heartbeat steady against my skin.
When I wake, the sun has moved across the sky and hours have passed.
And my phone is buzzing with a text from my father.
We need to talk. Now.