Chapter 28 LILY
LILY
I wake up in Erion's arms.
His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm, a rhythmic thud against my hand where it rests on his bare chest. The sound of his breathing fills the quiet room, punctuated by soft snores that rumble through him at irregular intervals. The sound is gentle. Comforting in a way I didn't expect.
I smile to myself. Can't help it.
I'm happy. Content. Even though I know this situation is difficult to navigate. Even though I know the men I'm falling for are dangerous in ways I'm only beginning to understand. Even though my life has become something I wouldn't have recognized three weeks ago.
But right now, in this moment, wrapped in warmth and the fading scent of sex and Erion's cologne, I'm just happy.
The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting silver shadows across Erion's face.
He looks different in sleep. Younger somehow.
The sharp edges of his personality softened by unconsciousness.
The aggression that radiates from him when he's awake is absent now, replaced by something almost peaceful.
I lie still for a while, watching him. Memorizing the way his lashes rest against his cheeks. The way his mouth relaxes into something softer than the smirks and grins he usually wears. The way his hand stays curled possessively around my waist even in sleep.
I'm awake and I don't want to disturb him. He needs the rest. They all do. The tension that's been building over the past days has been exhausting for all of them, even if they won't admit it.
Carefully, I extract myself from his hold.
Move slowly. Gently. Lifting his arm with both hands and placing it on the mattress beside him.
His fingers flex once, reaching for me, but he doesn't wake.
Just mumbles something in Albanian that I can't quite catch.
Something that sounds like my name wrapped in words I don't understand.
I grab the throw blanket from the bottom of the bed. The fabric is soft against my skin as I drape it over my naked body, wrapping it around myself like a cocoon.
I move to the window. Look out at the lake.
The full moon hangs low over the water, its reflection creating a path of silver light across the dark surface. Perfect and untouchable. The night is quiet except for the soft sounds of water lapping at the shore. A gentle rhythm that matches the pulse still thrumming through my veins.
I stand there for a while. Just watching. Just being. Letting the events of the evening settle into my body. Into my memory. The way Erion touched me. The things he said. The intensity of his want and the unexpected tenderness beneath it.
Then I see it.
A small incandescent light by the water. The orange glow of a cigarette flaring bright for a moment before dimming again. Someone is outside smoking, silhouetted against the moonlit lake.
I know immediately it's Artan.
I don't think about it.
I just move.
My feet carry me back to the bed. I lean down and kiss Erion softly on the forehead. His skin is warm beneath my lips. He mumbles something in Albanian,, and goes right back to sleep.
Then I leave the room.
I walk through the villa on silent feet. Down the stairs. Through the living room where moonlight spills across the furniture in geometric patterns. Out the door.
The night air hits me immediately. Cool and fresh against my overheated skin. My feet are bare on the cool grass, damp with evening dew. Then on the wooden planks of the jetty, smooth and slightly rough in places where the wood has weathered.
Artan senses my approach before I say anything. Turns around slowly, the cigarette still glowing between his fingers.
For a moment, we just look at each other. Him standing there in jeans and nothing else, his chest bare and his hair slightly mussed. Me wrapped in a blanket with nothing underneath. The space between us charged with everything we haven't said.
He flicks his cigarette away into the water. The ember arcs through the darkness before hitting the surface with a soft hiss.
He looks at me. His eyes are dark. Intense. Something burning there that makes my breath catch in my throat. Something I've seen building for days now. Something that's been growing between us since the moment we met and I walked into that apartment with a bottle of whiskey and a loaf of bread.
When I'm close enough to touch, he speaks. His voice is rough. Low. "You should get inside. It’s cold. You're shaking."
"I am shaking," I say. My voice is quiet. Steady despite the tremor running through my limbs. "But I'm not cold."
Something breaks in him.
I see it happen. The moment his control fractures and whatever he's been holding back finally breaks free. His hands come up to my face, large and warm against my cheeks. He cups my jaw with both palms, his thumbs brushing along my cheekbones with unexpected gentleness.
Then he drags me to him and kisses me.
The kiss is passionate. Desperate. Like he's been holding back for too long and finally let go. Like he's been drowning and I'm air. His mouth moves against mine with urgent need, his lips parting mine, his tongue sweeping in to taste me with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
I lose my grip on the blanket. It falls to the wooden planks beneath us with a soft whisper of fabric.
The cool air hits my naked skin but I barely notice. All I can feel is Artan. His hands moving from my face to my waist. His chest pressed against mine. The heat of him burning away everything else.
We kiss feverishly at first. Hard and urgent. His fingers digging into my hips with almost bruising force. My hands sliding up his bare chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my palms. Feeling the tension in his muscles. The restraint he's barely maintaining.
Then it changes.
The urgency shifts into something deeper. Slower. More deliberate. Like he's memorizing the taste of me. The feel of me. Like he wants to savor every second of this instead of rushing toward the inevitable end.
Artan picks me up by my hips. His strength is effortless, lifting me like I weigh nothing at all. I wrap my legs around him instinctively, my arms going around his neck. His mouth never leaves mine. Just keeps kissing me with that slow, drugging intensity that makes my head spin and my heart pound.
He lowers us to the ground slowly. First kneeling, his knees hitting the wooden planks with a soft thud. Then laying me down on top of the fallen blanket with careful precision.
His weight settles over me but he holds most of it on his elbows, caging me in without crushing me. His hips slot between my thighs like they were made to fit there.
He only stops kissing my mouth when he needs to get naked. His lips move to my collarbone instead. My breasts. Kisses and touches that feel reverent. Worshipful. Like he's discovering every inch of me and committing it to memory.
I help him with his jeans. My fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. He shoves them down his hips and kicks them off impatiently, his mouth never stopping its exploration of my skin.
We don’t talk. The moment feels too significant for words. Too heavy with everything we've been building toward. Too charged to break with conversation.
When he's finally naked, he pauses. Braces himself above me and looks down at me with an expression I can't quite name. Something between desire and something softer. Something that makes my chest tighten and my throat close.
His eyes catch on something. He reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing the left side of my neck. Where I can feel the slight tenderness of a bruise forming. Where Erion marked me with his mouth just hours ago.
"Erion," he says.
I nod. Confirm what he already knows.
I'm afraid he'll stop. Pull away. Decide this is too complicated or too messy or that sharing me isn't something he wants after all.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he leans down. Puts his mouth on the opposite side of my neck. Right where the pulse beats fast beneath my skin. And he sucks with force. Marking me too. Claiming me too.
The sensation sends heat flooding through me. Makes me gasp and arch against him. Makes my fingers dig into his shoulders.
His hand slides down my body with deliberate slowness. Over my stomach. Between my thighs. His fingers find where I'm wet and ready. Where my body has been aching for him since the moment I saw him standing by the water.
He works me with gentle precision. Two fingers sliding inside while his thumb circles and presses with exactly the right amount of pressure. Reading my body's responses. Adjusting his rhythm until I'm shaking beneath him.
The orgasm builds slowly. A steady climb that makes my breathing uneven and my thighs tremble. When it hits, it's not explosive. It's deep. Rolling through me in waves that leave me gasping his name against his shoulder.
Then he enters me.
The stretch is perfect. Filling. He slides in slowly, giving me time to adjust. Giving me time to feel every inch of him. His forehead rests against mine. His eyes locked on my face. Watching every expression that crosses it.
The pace is achingly slow. Deliberate. We look into each other's eyes the whole time. No hiding. No pretending this is just physical. No pretending this doesn't mean something more than it should.
Connection. Presence. Nothing rushed or hidden.
His hips move with steady rhythm. Each thrust deep and measured. Each withdrawal almost complete before he pushes back in. Building tension with patience instead of urgency.
I reach up and cup his face. My thumbs brushing over his stubbled jaw. His eyes are so dark they're almost black. Pupils blown wide with desire. And tenderness that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
"Bukuri ime, my beauty" he whispers against my mouth. The Albanian sounds rough and raw in his throat. "E jotja per gjithmone. Yours forever"
I don't know if he means it. Don't know if this is the moment talking or something deeper. But hearing it makes something break open inside me.
I explode in another orgasm. Harder than the first. My body clenching around him as pleasure floods through every nerve ending. Makes my vision white out at the edges. Makes me cry out his name loud enough that it echoes across the water.
Artan follows. His body going tense above me. His breath harsh and ragged against my neck. His hips stuttering as he comes deep inside me with a groan that sounds like my name.
We lay there after. Bodies still connected. Hearts pounding against each other. Breathing hard in the cool night air.
Eventually, he pulls out carefully. Sits up. Pulls me with him. Positions me seated between his legs with my back against his chest. Wraps the blanket around us both like a cocoon. His arms circle my waist and hold me close.
Together we watch the sunrise over the lake.
The sky lightens gradually. Pink spreading across the horizon first. Then gold bleeding through the clouds. The water reflects it all back, turning the surface into a mirror of color and light.
Neither of us speaks.
We just watch the day begin.
His chin rests on top of my head. His hands are warm against my stomach. His heartbeat steady against my spine.
Right now, wrapped in Artan's arms as the sun comes up, I don't think about the complications.
I just think about how right this feels.
How complete.
And how terrifying it is to want something this badly when you know it might not last.