Chapter 25 Sadie #2
My composure cracks at his words, a dam I've been holding together with sheer will since the night I fled Oregon. A sob catches in my throat, and I press my hand to my mouth, trying to hold it back. But it's too late.
The tears come fast, silent but unstoppable. I turn my face away, hating the weakness, but Axel doesn't let me hide. His hand, warm and gentle, cups my jaw, turning me back to face him. With his thumb, he wipes away the tears tracking down my cheeks.
"I've got you," he murmurs, pulling me closer until I'm against his chest. "I've got you both."
He presses his lips to my temple, a gesture so tender it makes me cry harder. His arms tighten around me, solid and safe, as I shake apart in his embrace.
"I hate this," I whisper against his shirt. "I hate needing someone. I hate not being able to handle this alone."
"I know," he says, his voice rumbling under my ear. "But you don't have to do it alone anymore."
I pull back just enough to look at him, really look at him. The man who hired a private investigator to protect my daughter. Who booked a private jet to keep us safe. Who's sitting here now, holding me together when I'm falling apart.
"I feel safe with you," I admit, the words barely audible. "I've never felt that with anyone else."
Something shifts in his eyes, relief, maybe, or hope. His hand comes up to brush hair from my face, lingering against my cheek.
"I never meant to hurt you," he says. "When I kept that photo from you—"
"I know," I cut him off, not wanting to revisit that pain. Not now. "I was angry because I trusted you. Because you matter."
Something shifts in his expression. We're so close I can feel his breath, see the flecks of gold in his irises. The air between us changes, charged with something beyond the fear and anger of moments before.
I don't think about it. I just lean forward and press my lips to his.
The kiss is hesitant, trembling on the edge of restraint, but the second his arms lock around me, all the air in the room changes.
His grip is iron, claiming, his low growl vibrating against my lips and straight through my core.
I surge against him, my hands twisting in his shirt, desperate for more, for all of him, need clawing at every rational thought.
I don’t just want him, I ache to be taken, to be owned.
His mouth opens over mine, deepening the kiss as his hands slide down my back, pulling me firmly against him. I gasp against his lips, the solid heat of his body a shock after days of emptiness and fear.
"Sadie," he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at me, to make sure. "Are you…"
"Don't stop," I whisper, already pulling him back to me. "Please don't stop."
His restraint snaps. He crushes my mouth beneath his, hand fisting in my hair as his other palm clamps down on my hip, holding me still like he owns my body.
I arch into him, shameless, desperate for more, for the delicious friction of his body pressed to mine.
I want him to take, to claim, to leave no doubt that I am his.
We're moving toward my bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine except for frantic breaths. My back hits the wall beside my door, and he presses against me, his hardness evident against my stomach. I moan low in my throat, my head falling back as his lips find my neck, my collarbone.
"I need you," I confess, trembling as his teeth graze the sensitive spot below my ear. "Axel, I need you."
He pulls back, his eyes dark with desire but still focused, still present. "You don’t get it, Sadie," he rasps, eyes blazing into mine. "You already own every damn part of me. I’m yours."
I take his hand and lead him into my bedroom.
I close the door behind us, the soft click barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears.
The room is dim, lit only by the small lamp on my nightstand, casting everything in soft golden shadows.
The green lights on the second baby monitor I keep in my room blink steadily on my dresser, Poppy's gentle breathing a quiet reminder of everything at stake.
Axel stands before me, his eyes never leaving mine as he cups my face in his hands. The heat from earlier hasn't diminished, but there's something different in the way he touches me now, a reverence, a care that makes my chest ache.
"Slow down," he murmurs, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "We have time."
Panic claws at my chest, every instinct screaming that this is a stolen moment, that tomorrow could rip it all away. But Axel’s grip is reassuring. His hands, his mouth, his body tell me I am safe, here, now. For the first time in years, I let myself believe I could be his. That I want to be.
He leans in, his kiss softer than before. Deliberate. Like he's memorizing the shape of my mouth, the taste of me. His hands slide into my hair, cradling my head as if I'm something precious, something that might break.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, searching. "Do you want me, Sadie?" His voice is rough with restraint. "Tell me you want me," he demands, voice low, his hand possessive on my thigh. "I need to hear you say whom you belong to."
The vulnerability in his question steals my breath. He's giving me control even as he takes it, making sure this is my choice, my desire.
"Yes," I whisper, then stronger, "yes, I want you."
He walks me backward toward the bed, his movements controlled but barely. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw; he's holding back, keeping himself in check.
"I think about the taste of you," he admits, his hands finding the hem of my shirt. "Constantly. I crave it."
I lift my arms, letting him pull my shirt over my head. The cool air prickles my skin, but his gaze is so hot I barely notice.
"May I?" he asks, fingers hovering at the clasp of my bra.
I nod, unable to find words as his knuckles brush against my spine.
The bra loosens, then falls away. The moonlight streaks across my body perfectly, accentuating all the things I try to hide about myself.
I resist the urge to cover myself, to hide the stretch marks on my breasts from pregnancy, the extra softness around my middle that never quite firmed after Poppy.
But Axel admires me. His eyes darken further as he takes me in, his hands gentle as they trace the curve of my waist.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, bending to press a kiss to my collarbone. "Every part of you."
His mouth charts a path lower, finding the stretch marks I have spent so long hiding, and he lingers there, his tongue and rough stubble branding every line.
His lips worship the evidence of my survival, every scar and curve.
The heat of his breath over skin I thought no one would ever want again makes my thighs press together, needy, desperate.
There is no hiding from him—only the dizzying reality of being completely laid bare and claimed.
I've always been touched with an agenda, with expectation. Elliot's hands were possessive but never appreciative, demanding but never giving. This, Axel's patient exploration, his obvious pleasure in simply touching me, is entirely new.
"You're trembling," he says, looking up at me with concern.
"I'm not used to this," I admit. "To being… seen."
Understanding softens his features. He straightens, cupping my face in his hands.
"I see you, Sadie. All of you." His thumbs brush away tears I didn't realize had fallen. "And you're safe with me. Always."
The words unlock something in my chest, a tightness I've carried for so long I forgot it was there. I reach for the buttons of his shirt with newfound boldness, needing to feel his skin against mine.
He stands perfectly still, letting me strip him, his gaze locked on mine, dark and unyielding.
As his shirt falls away, lamplight cuts over the hard lines of his chest and the veins at his bicep.
My pulse stutters, mouth goes dry. I want to run my tongue over every inch, bury my face in that clean, masculine heat, mark him the way he’s marking me.
My hands tremble with hunger I can’t hide.
My hands explore him with growing confidence, tracing the contours of muscle and bone. When I reach for his belt, his breath hitches, his control visibly slipping.
"Lie back," he says, his voice low but firm.
I do as he asks, settling against my pillows as he kneels to remove my sweatpants. His fingers hook in the waistband of my underwear, looking up for permission before sliding them down my legs.
And then I'm naked before him, completely exposed. I fight the urge to cover myself, to hide from his intense gaze.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. He kisses my ankle, then slowly works his way up my calf, my knee, my thigh. "Spread open for me to devour?"
I can't answer, can barely breathe as his mouth moves higher, his hands spreading my thighs wider. When his lips brush the crease where my leg meets my hip, so close to where I'm aching for him, a whimper escapes me.
"Tell me what you need," he murmurs against my skin.
"You," I manage, my voice breaking. "Just you."
He smiles against my inner thigh, a quick flash of teeth that sends a quake of desire through me. "You want me, you have all of me," he growls against my skin, voice vibrating with restraint. "No one will ever touch you like this. No one else gets to see you fall apart."
The first touch of his tongue makes me gasp, my back arching off the bed. He holds my hips steady, his grip firm but gentle as he tastes me with long, deliberate strokes.
"So sweet," he murmurs, his eyes flicking up to watch my reaction. "So responsive."