Chapter 37
LILY
I'm kissing him.
I'm kissing him.
The shock of it nearly makes me pull back. But I don't—I can't. This is mine. This choice. This moment. This man.
I've never done this before. I’ve never initiated contact, never chosen to touch someone like this.
For thirteen years, my body has been a fortress—locked down, defended, untouchable.
And now I'm standing on my tiptoes with my mouth pressed against Mason Rivera's, and I feel like I'm reclaiming territory that was stolen from me.
His lips are warm. Firm. He's not moving—he doesn’t touch me. He's letting me lead and set the pace. The power of that awareness floods through me like liquid heat, spreading from my mouth down through my chest, pooling low in my belly.
I'm in control.
My hands release his shirt and I move my palms over his chest—tentative at first, then bolder.
I can feel his heart hammering beneath my palms, feel the tension coiled in every muscle.
The fabric of his shirt is rough under my fingertips, warm from his body heat.
He's holding himself completely still. Not just restraining himself—frozen.
Waiting for me to decide what happens next.
He’s showing me I’m safe with him.
I press closer, tilting my head slightly, and his mouth opens beneath mine.
The sensation is overwhelming—heat and texture and the taste of him, faint mint and something darker, something purely him.
My breath catches. My fingers curl into his shirt, gripping hard, and I feel his chest expand as he inhales sharply.
The sound he makes—low and rough and barely controlled—sends electricity racing down my spine, through my limbs, all the way to my fingertips and toes.
I've spent thirteen years afraid of being touched. Afraid of hands that take without asking. Afraid of my own body and what it might betray. Keeping myself walled off from men because I was afraid of how much they’d take from me.
But this is nothing like that. Mason isn’t taking—he’s accepting what I’m giving him. This is me choosing, me deciding. Me reclaiming what was stolen and making it mine again.
My soul feels like it soars. I kiss him harder, deeper.
The heat spreads everywhere—through my chest, down my arms, pooling between my thighs.
I feel myself getting wet, even wetter than I usually do around him.
My body shakes with need for him, responding in ways it never has, in ways I thought were broken. Ways I thought I'd never feel.
But I feel them now. God, I feel everything.
My hands slide up his chest to his shoulders, and I feel the hard muscle beneath the fabric, the coiled strength he's holding back.
And then I feel it—that hard length of him pressed against my belly. I freeze, my mouth stilling on his. I’d seen the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, but feeling it is completely different.
He's rock hard.
My eyes open.
He’s watching me, his eyes glittering with hunger. I can see it all there: how badly he wants me and how tightly he’s reining it in. His body is screaming for mine.
But his hands don't move.
Not to grab my waist, not to hold on to my hips, not to pull me closer or claim me or take control.
He stands here with his fists clenched so tight I can see the white of his knuckles, his entire body rigid with restraint, letting me do whatever I want.
He's not touching me even though I'm touching him.
Even though I'm kissing him. Even though he's hard and wanting and I can feel how much it's costing him to hold back.
I blink up at him. Does he know what a gift this is? He's giving me agency. Choice. Power. After everything that was taken from me, he's handing it all back.
I pull back just enough to see him clearly.
His eyes are dark and wild and locked on mine. His chest is heaving. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. “Lily.”
My name comes out rough and wrecked, and I feel the sound of it in my bones, between my legs, everywhere.
I don't know what to say. I don't have words for this. For the way my body is humming with sensation and power and something I haven't felt in over a decade.
Desire.
Not the kind that's forced or stolen. The kind that's chosen. The kind that makes me feel alive instead of hunted. It makes me feel like more than a survivor.
I feel like myself.