Chapter 29
Clara woke to warmth. Not sunlight, but the furnace heat of Jonas pressed behind her, his chest hard at her back, one muscled arm banded tightly around her waist. His breath feathered against her neck in slow, even drags, stirring her hair.
For a moment, she lay perfectly still, cocooned in his hold, daring to believe she could stay here forever.
Then she felt it.
Thick. Insistent. The unmistakable ridge of his arousal pressed against her ass.
Her heart stuttered as heat flooded low in her belly.
She shifted, just slightly, just enough to test, and his hips rolled instinctively, grinding into her.
Pleasure pulsed through her, tightening her lower belly.
An ache in her breasts rippled through her body to her swollen clit, making her roll her hips back toward his hardness.
A guttural sound broke from his chest. “Clara…”
The sound unravelled the tight spool of heat inside her, as his big palm stroked a path over her hip, up her ribcage until his hand brushed her lower breast. God, she wanted his hands on her, his touch on every part of her.
She turned in his arms, pulse hammering, and found his eyes open, dark and dilated, staring at her as if she’d set fire to his soul.
“Hi,” she whispered, embarrassed at the wobble in her voice.
He swallowed, jaw tight, every muscle in his face drawn taut. But when she reached up and brushed her fingers across the rough line of his jaw, he leaned into her touch as though it were salvation. His hands moved over her so slowly as if he was processing every curve into memory.
“Just us,” she whispered, her thumb tracing the edge of his stubble. “Only us.” She didn’t know the details of what he’d been through, but she had an idea, and Clara knew this wasn’t a small thing for him. Opening up, trusting someone.
The last of his restraint broke.
His mouth crashed into hers, hot, devouring, his tongue sliding deep. He kissed like a man starved, desperate and raw, and she clung to him, letting him take, take, take. Her body sparked to life under him, every inch of her aware of his size, his strength, the sheer force of him.
She gasped when his hand slid beneath her crop top, callused fingers skimming her ribs before cupping her breast. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, chasing his touch like a drug. He groaned as her nipple hardened against his palm, his thumb rolling it until she moaned into his kiss.
“Fuck,” he muttered against her lips, breath ragged. “Been dreaming of this. Waking up hard, thinking about how you’d taste. How you’d feel in my hands, your heat clenching around my cock.”
The words made her wetter, her thighs pressing together for relief. “Then stop dreaming,” she whispered, bold with need, “and touch me.”
He cursed under his breath. His hand slipped into her knickers, and she gasped as his thick fingers slid through her slick folds. Her back arched, seeking more, wanting everything.
“Christ, you’re soaked,” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “All for me.”
Her hips bucked helplessly as his thumb circled her clit, light at first, teasing, then firmer, relentless.
His fingers pushed inside her, thick, curling deep, hitting a spot that made her cry out.
He worked her body into a whimpering mess, every stroke sending her higher and higher, until she felt like she was on the edge of falling into something that would change everything.
“Jonas.”
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he rasped, his voice low and wrecked. “Come for me, Clara. I want to feel you fall apart.”
She clutched at him, nails digging into his shoulders, as he worked her mercilessly, thrusting, curling, pressing, until pleasure coiled so tight she thought she’d break. His eyes never left her face, hungry, reverent, demanding.
And then she shattered.
Her body clamped hard around his fingers, pulsing in hot, wet waves. She cried out his name, arching, trembling, as he held her through it, watching her unravel like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, kissing her fiercely. “You’re beautiful when you come.”
She sagged against him, boneless, still trembling.
The duvet was on the floor, and her eyes devoured his body, strong, muscular, virile, the scars he carried only adding to the beauty of the man.
Her fingers explored every inch, his body shuddering with pleasure when her fingernails caught on his nipples.
She could spend hours watching the flickers of pleasure crossing his handsome face.
He didn’t give her long to explore. Pulling his fingers free from her pussy, slick and shining, he shoved his boxers down.
The sight of him, thick, heavy, flushed, stole her breath.
Grasping her thigh, he wound it over his hip, opening her up for him.
Face to face, nobody and nothing between them.
Normally, she’d be shy, but she was so turned on by his eyes on her, so relaxed from her orgasm that she didn’t care.
He stroked himself once, lining up at her entrance, the blunt head sliding against her swollen folds, coating himself in her. She whimpered at the pressure, at how big he felt already.
“Tell me you want this,” he rasped, his voice fraying. “Tell me, Clara.”
“I want you,” she whispered fiercely, raw and certain. “All of you.”
That broke him.
He pushed inside, slow, relentless, stretching her inch by inch until she gasped at the fullness. Her body fought to accommodate him, but slick with her release, he slid deeper, deeper, until he filled her completely.
“Fuck,” he groaned, jaw clenched, his face buried in her neck. “You feel… Christ, you feel like heaven.”
Her nails bit into his shoulders. “Jonas…”
He kissed her, slow and tender, before pulling back and thrusting gently, dragging against her walls, making her whimper.
“Harder,” she begged, shocking herself with the desperation in her voice. “Please.”
His control shattered.
He drove into her, deep and relentless, each thrust stealing her breath.
She clung to him, crying out, her body alive with sensation, burning for him.
He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she cried out from the sensations bombarding her.
Jonas dipped his head, sucking the tight peak into his mouth.
Laving her sensitive nipple with his tongue as he fucked into her, hard, relentless, perfect.
“Mine,” he growled, biting gently at her throat. “You’re mine. Say it.”
Her orgasm surged, unstoppable. “Yours. Oh, God. Yours, Jonas!”
She convulsed around him, tight and pulsing, her climax ripping through her. With a broken curse, he thrust hard, burying himself deep as he spilled inside her, holding her close as though she were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
They collapsed together, slick with sweat, hearts hammering in sync. He kissed her temple, soft now, reverent, and whispered one word, rough with emotion.
“Mine.”
And Clara knew, with absolute certainty, she was.
Her body was still trembling, pulsing from the inside out, when his weight settled carefully over her. Not crushing but holding. Anchoring.
She clung to him, boneless, her face buried against his neck. His scent, clean sweat, soap, something dark and male, wrapped around her as much as his arms did.
Slowly, achingly, he eased out of her. She whimpered at the loss, but then his hand slipped between her thighs. Two fingers pushed gently back into her, sliding through the slick mess he’d left behind, pressing it deeper.
“Jonas,” she gasped, shivering at the sensation.
His voice was low, almost embarrassed. “Don’t want to waste a drop.”
Her cheeks flamed. “You’re…. Oh my God.”
“I’m clean,” he said quickly, as though needing to explain. “Always careful. Always.”
“I am too,” she whispered.
“I know.”
That stopped her. She tilted her head back, catching his gaze. His ears went scarlet.
“Of course you do,” she laughed softly, a little breathless still. “Eidetic memory, genius IQ, hacker extraordinaire. You’d know before I even said it.”
The blush deepened, staining his cheekbones. And damn it if her heart didn’t twist. Because this man, the one who’d made her body sing, who had just blown her entire world apart, was blushing like a boy.
God help her, she was falling.
He gathered her close, tucking her against his chest as though she belonged there, and she let herself melt into him. The rhythm of his heartbeat slowed beneath her ear, steady and strong.
For a while, silence reigned. Just breathing, skin against skin, the aftershocks settling. She traced lazy circles over the muscle of his chest, feeling the tension ebb away in layers.
Then his voice broke the quiet. Low. Rough. Weighted.
“The night I was taken…”
He stopped.
Clara stilled, her heart lurching. She lifted her head, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, as though staring down ghosts only he could see.
Her fingers curled against him, instinctively holding tighter, steadying him even as her own breath caught.
But he said nothing more.
And in that suspended moment, Clara knew, he was finally on the edge of giving her the truth.