Chapter 15
(Aria POV)
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I lay in his bed, drowning in his shirt, the phone still warm in my hand from that one-word reply. Stay.
It echoed in my head, low and commanding, until every nerve in my body buzzed with it.
Then—headlights swept across the bedroom window. The growl of an engine cutting off. A car door shutting.
My breath caught.
Keys jingled, a lock turned, the front door opened and shut. His boots thudded against the hardwood, steady, unhurried, every step making my pulse race harder.
I pressed back into the pillows, heart hammering. He was home. And he knew exactly what was waiting for him upstairs.
The floor creaked in the hall. Closer. Closer.
The bedroom door opened.
Marcus filled the doorway, broad shoulders in shadow, eyes catching the dim light. He went still.
I shifted slightly, the hem of his shirt sliding higher on my thighs. His gaze dropped, lingered, darkened.
“Aria.” His voice was rough, strained.
“You said to stay,” I whispered.
The silence burned. Then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. The sound felt final, like a line being crossed.
He approached the bed, slow, deliberate, like a man walking to his own undoing. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, until he was there, standing over me.
His hand lifted, fingers brushing the open edge of the shirt, just enough to part it a little more. His breath shuddered.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he said hoarsely.
“I do,” I whispered back. “I want this. I want you.”
Something broke in his eyes.
He leaned down, bracing one arm on the mattress, his other hand sliding against my thigh, pushing the fabric higher, higher. His mouth crushed mine, hot and desperate, his control shattering in a single kiss.
I gasped, arching into him, and his growl vibrated against my lips.
“Mine,” he rasped, hands everywhere now, pulling me closer, devouring me like he’d been starving.
The shirt slipped from my shoulder, baring skin to his mouth. He kissed a path down my neck, down to where the fabric gaped, and I trembled under every touch.
I clung to him, half-mad with it, every nerve lit, every inch of me screaming more.
He pulled back, chest heaving, eyes burning down into mine. “This…” His voice was raw. “…isn’t a game anymore. You made your choice.”
I swallowed, breathless. “So make yours.”
For one heartbeat, he fought it. Then he cursed, low and broken, and finally, finally, gave in.
His mouth was fire. His hands, merciless.
Every inch he touched turned molten, every kiss deeper, hungrier, rougher than the last. He wasn’t Marcus Hale, Dad’s partner and rule-maker anymore. He was a man finally giving in, and he was devouring me.
The shirt slid higher, his hand skimming up my bare thigh, stopping just shy of where I ached most. My hips shifted toward him, desperate. He stilled, dark eyes pinning me.
“Beg me.” His voice was low, wrecked.
Heat slammed through me. “Marcus…”
“Beg.”
I swallowed hard, pride warring with need, but the need won. “Please,” I whispered, arching against his hand. “I need you. I’ve needed you for so long.”
His growl rumbled against my skin as his hand finally moved, cupping me, fingers pressing slowly, teasing circles that made my breath shatter.
I gasped, clutching his shoulders, thighs trembling as he took me higher and higher.
“You think you’re ready for this?” he rasped against my throat. “For me?”
“Yes,” I panted. “God, yes…”
He slid the shirt up and over me, baring me completely, throwing aside the last barrier between us. The first touch of skin to skin made me cry out, shameless, desperate.
“That’s it,” he murmured, lips at my ear. “Let me hear you. Let me know how bad you want me.”
My back arched, head tipping back, his hand relentless now, every stroke pulling me tighter, closer, my body straining against the edge.
“Please,” I gasped again, voice breaking. “Marcus, please, I need you inside me…”
His breath shook against my lips. “If I take you,” Marcus rasped, “there’s no undoing it. No pretending it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t want to pretend,” I whispered, trembling beneath him. “I want you.”
And then he slid inside me with one sure thrust, filling me, breaking me open. I cried out, back arching, clutching his shoulders.
He stilled, groaning low in his throat, his forehead pressed to mine. “Christ, Aria…”
The world blurred, narrowed to him, to us.
His hands locked on my hips, and he began to move.
Slow at first, controlled, like he wanted to savor every second.
But the control didn’t last, his restraint, the weeks of tension, shattered all at once.
His pace grew harder, deeper, until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.
He kissed me between curses, between ragged breaths, his voice rough against my ear. “So fucking sweet… so perfect…”
Pleasure surged, wild and consuming, building higher and higher until it tore through me, sharp and bright, leaving me crying out his name.
Marcus followed, shuddering against me, holding me tight as if he’d never let me go.
For a long moment, the only sound was our breathing, ragged, mingled in the quiet of his room.
His lips brushed my temple, my jaw, my mouth again, softer this time but no less hungry. His arms locked tight around me, pulling me close like he was afraid I’d vanish. I could feel him hard again, pressing up against me.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark, fierce, undone. “You’re for my pleasure only,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Yes…” I murmured.
He gently swatted my ass. “Good girl,” he said.
He entered me again but as soon as he did he rolled me until I was straddling him. My hair falling forward, our bodies slick and desperate. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me.
“Ride me, Aria,” he growled, eyes dark, locked on mine. “Show me how much you want this.”
Heat seared through me. I moved, slow at first, then faster, chasing the rhythm he set with his hands on my waist. The sight of him beneath me—strong, undone, cursing under his breath—made me dizzy with power.
I gasped, moaned, begged, and he gave it right back, bucking up into me, filling me deeper, harder. His hands slid up, palming my breasts, his thumbs teasing until I cried out.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasped, voice breaking. “God, look at you.”
The pleasure built again, fierce and wild, crashing through me until I was clawing at him, crying out his name, my body shuddering over and over.
Marcus flipped me over the next second, pinning me beneath him again, driving into me from a new angle that made me scream. His hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back so his mouth could claim mine, his thrusts relentless.
“Mine,” he panted against my lips. “Every inch of you. Every sound. Every look. You’re mine now, Aria.”
“Yes,” I gasped, broken with it. “Yours, Marcus, always…”
His groan deepened, his pace breaking, his body shuddering as he spilled into me again, dragging me with him into the sharp, consuming edge of release.
This time, when it was over, he didn’t move away. He gathered me against him, our bodies still tangled, his hands caressing my back, steady, tender.