Chapter 19
POV: Alexander?
That’s it.
That’s all it takes.
I close my eyes for half a second, a breath leaving me like a groan, my forehead almost dropping to hers.
“Jesus…” I mutter, a rough, broken laugh escaping me. “I love you.”
Her lips brush mine, quick, teasing, like a promise.
“Then stop talking.”
The elevator dings.
I don’t even remember crossing the lobby.
Or the walk to the car.
Or the drive.
All I know is her.
Her hand in mine.
Her thigh brushing mine in the passenger seat.
The way she keeps looking at me like she’s still making sure I’m real.
And every time our eyes meet, something tightens in my chest.
Because I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve her.
But she’s here anyway.
The second we step into my apartment, the door barely closes behind us before she’s on me again.
And this time—I don’t hold back.
Not even a little.
My hands find her like they’ve been waiting for this moment their entire existence—pulling her in, lifting her slightly as her arms wrap around my neck.
The kiss is immediate.
Deep.
Hungry in a way that feels like survival.
Like I need this to breathe.
Like I need her.
Her back hits the door as I turn us, pressing her against it, my body caging hers in without hesitation.
“Say it again,” I murmur against her lips, my voice rough, almost desperate. “Say yes again.”
Her breath catches, her fingers threading into my hair.
“Yes,” she whispers, right against my mouth. “Yes, I’m yours.”
Mine.
Fuck.
I kiss her harder.
Because if I stop—if I think too much—I might break under the weight of what she just gave me.
And I don’t want to think.
Not right now.
Right now, I just want her.
All of her.
After twelve years of restraint, of distance, of pretending I could live without this…
I’m done pretending.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I kissed her like I was starving, my tongue sliding into her mouth, tangling with hers. She met me with that quiet surrender she always had—letting me explore, letting me feel, letting me take everything I’d been denied for years.
“Missed this,” I muttered against her lips. “Missed you.”
My hands moved over her body like they belonged there. Her waist. Her hips. Down her thighs.
I pulled her legs up, the fabric of her skirt riding higher, and she reacted instantly—her legs wrapping around my hips, locking me in like she never wanted to let me go again.
“Just like that,” I murmured, my voice rough. “Don’t let me go.”
I carried her deeper into the apartment, breaking the kiss only to trail my mouth along her jaw, down her neck, breathing her in.
“You’re not getting a tour,” I said, my lips brushing her skin. “I’ll show you tomorrow… because I don’t think we’re leaving that bedroom until then.”
She laughed—soft, breathless—and fuck, that sound. I’d missed it. I’d carried it in my head for years, in every memory that kept me going.
I reached the bed and laid her down carefully.
Like she was something sacred.
Like she was something holy.
For a second, I just looked at her.
And she looked back at me.
There was something in that moment—something fragile, almost unreal—like if I blinked too fast, I’d wake up and she’d be gone again.
“Stay,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “Don’t disappear on me again.”
My fingers brushed her face gently, almost reverent, before I leaned down and kissed her again.
Slow this time.
Intentional.
My hands moved to her blouse, sliding the straps off her shoulders, pushing the fabric down inch by inch. I unzipped her skirt, guiding it down her legs until she was left in nothing but black lace.
I exhaled, my gaze dragging over her body.
“God…” My voice dropped. “Look at you.”
My hand slid up her thigh, firm, claiming.
“You have any idea what you do to me?”
And then I didn’t wait for an answer.
I kissed her.
Every inch of her.
From her feet, up her legs, across her stomach, to her collarbones—taking my time, like I had all the years I lost to make up for.
Then I came back to her mouth, kissing her deep before reaching behind her and unclasping her bra, pulling it away slowly.
My mouth followed.
Down.
Lower.
Finding the curve of her breasts, the soft skin, the places I knew would make her react.
She gasped when I brushed just the right spot.
I smirked softly against her skin.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “I remember.”
I knew exactly where it was.
But I didn’t give it to her yet.
I wanted to feel her build.
I wanted to hear it.
I kissed lower, over her stomach, my fingers hooking into the edge of her panties, dragging them down slowly.
“Lift for me,” I said quietly.
She did.
Perfect.
Always so perfect for me.
Then I moved back up again, taking one of her nipples into my mouth, my tongue spreading over it, feeling it harden under my touch.
Her body reacted instantly—her breath hitching, her chest lifting toward me.
“That’s it,” I murmured, my hand pressing her hip down gently when she arched too much. “Stay with me… feel it.”
I switched to the other, giving it the same attention, the same slow, deliberate rhythm.
Then I moved down again.
“Open for me,” I said, firmer this time.
She did.
No hesitation.
My chest tightened at that.
At the trust.
At the way she still gave herself to me like this.
Her legs parted, and I settled between them like I’d always belonged there.
I paused for a second, just looking at her.
Taking her in.
“You’re mine,” I said softly, not as a demand—but as something I couldn’t hold back anymore. “You always were.”
And then I lowered my mouth to her.
I kissed her there the same way I kissed her mouth—deep, slow, hungry. Again and again, until she was nothing but broken breaths and soft gasps under me.
“Say my name,” I murmured against her, my voice rough with need. “I want to hear it.”
And all I could think—
All I could feel—
Was that I had her again.
That I got her back.
That this woman—this incredible, impossible woman—was here with me.
And I would spend the rest of my life worshiping her for it.