Page 62 of Covetous

Victor holds me close under the covers, our bodies intertwined like vines as we face each other. “I should go,” I murmur, but I make no move to leave.

“When will I see you again?”

I never want to leave. “Soon, I hope.” The words hang between us, heavy with the weight of our complicated situation.

Blue eyes meet mine, determined and longing. “You can’t marry him.”

“No. I can’t. I won’t.”

A wave of relief crosses his face. “You’re mine.”

I exhale, my breath shaky. Just because I know what I have to do—what I want to do—doesn’t make it easy. I’m dreading hurting the people I care about, even if it means my happiness. Tears blur my vision—happy tears. I still can’t believe this is real. That he’s finally mine.

“I’m yours.” Cementing my words, I press my forehead to his. As surreal as this feels, my chest tightens with fear and sadness, not letting me fully enjoy this moment. “I have a wedding to cancel, a relationship to end, my family to tell. And then there’s Esme…I need time. Not for the breakup with Ian, but to tell Esme and my family.”

“I understand. Take all the time you need.” Victor plants a soft kiss on my forehead before rolling onto his back, running a hand through his sex-tousled hair. “Do you think you and Esme can come back from this?”

I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at him. “I don’t know. I hope so.” The past month has been a whirlwind of challenges for both of us, and I know that being together now doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing ahead. But are we truly together? As in, officially a couple?

My heart races as I gather the courage to ask the question that's been gnawing at me. “When you say that I'm yours,” I begin, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, “what does that mean to you... exactly?” It’s not that I doubt what I mean to him, but this is still Victor we’re talking about. I know his reputation before Esme. Does he want to settle down—as in, in a monogamous committed relationship?

He shifts, rolling onto his side to face me again. “When I say that you’re mine, it also means I’m yours. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.” A crooked, genuine smile plays on his full lips. “I’m obsessed with you, for fuck’s sake.” That gets a laugh out of me because join the freaking club. His expression turns serious, his eyes swimming with something that looks like guilt. It throws me off because I have no idea what he’s about to tell me. “That’s why I knew I had to break up with her.”

“You broke up with Esme for me?”

Victor’s eyes lock on mine, intense and unwavering. “You were still with Ian, so I didn’t expect anything to happen between us. But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.” He takes a deep breath. “I realized I didn’t just hate Ian because he’s an asshole. I hated him because he had you, and I…I wanted you.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words. His fingers find a lock of my hair, gently curling it around his finger. “Once I admitted that to myself, I knew I couldn’t keep stringing Esme along. It wasn’t fair to her.” He pauses, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if wrestling with his next words. “I didn’t know if you’d ever leave him, but after we made love on the beach, I knew there was no way in hell that I was going to watch you marry him. I tried to let you go, but it fucked me up.”

“It fucked me up too.” I pull back to search his face. “But we agreed to leave what happened in Cape Cod behind us.”

A determined glint flashes in his eyes. “I was biding my time, mainly so that you and Esme could be straight. But I was coming for you, Skylar. One way or another.” His hand threads through my hair to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. “I love you.”

My heart soars. Seriously. I’m on cloud nine. Warmth blooms in my chest, spreading through my entire being as his words run through me. “I love you too,” I whisper. “I think I’ve always loved you, even when I tried not to.” Happy tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision.

Victor’s lips meet mine, soft at first, then more insistent. A gentle nip at my bottom lip makes me moan. God, he’s such a good kisser. Chuckling low, he continues the kiss, his tongue tracing my lips before sliding against mine, and I melt into him. When I playfully bite his lower lip, he groans, the sound vibrating through my body. Gently sucking his tongue earns me a sharp inhale. His fingers tangle in my hair, angling my head for better access. We tease and retreat, push and pull, in a delicious dance that leaves me dizzy and wanting more.

The kiss deepens, slow and thorough, as if we have all the time in the world. As if there’s not a party with hundreds of people going on downstairs. As if our being together won’t shock or hurt anyone. I know the path forward won’t be easy, but right now, safe in Victor’s arms as we kiss in the dark, I feel like nothing can ever come between us.

It’s 2:00 a.m. when I finally tear myself away from Victor’s bed. He helps me sneak out, both of us on high alert for any sign of his family. With a quick kiss goodbye, one that doesn’t last long enough for either of us, I climb in my car and head home, my body still buzzing.

Half an hour later, I arrive to find Ian’s car in my driveway. The hell? My hands shake as I turn off the engine. I’m not in the mood or head space to deal with him tonight, but it looks like I have to. Maybe it’s for the best. The sooner I rip the Band-Aid off our toxic relationship, the better.

Taking deep breaths, I force myself out of the car. The house is dead quiet as I tiptoe upstairs past Esme’s room. Her door is slightly open, and the lights are off. She must’ve left after letting Ian in.

The relief doesn’t last long; Ian’s temper is always worse when no one else is around.

Each step feels heavy with dread as I approach my bedroom. When I open the door, my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. Ian is slouched on my bed, his face twisted with pain, tears shining in his eyes.

He knows. But how?

“Where were you?” His voice is low and controlled.

I’m trying to find my courage, but I’m freaking the hell out. “A birthday party.”

His eyes narrow at my dress, no doubt judging the short hem. “Dressed like that?” His words drip with accusation.

I brush off his dig. “We need to talk.”

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