Page 50 of Shattered Echoes

"You don't need to thank me, Col. I'll always be here for you, no matter what. You hear me?"

I nod, letting the truth of his vow sink into my very marrow. After so much upheaval and pain, his solid presence is the harbor I can anchor myself to while the storm rages around me.

Pressing another fleeting kiss to his lips, I settle back against the couch cushions and tuck myself into his side, craving the cocoon of his embrace. Antonio wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close with a contented hum.

"How are you feeling?" he murmurs after a lengthy stretch of contented silence, nuzzling a kiss to my hairline. "Any better after getting some of that off your chest?"

I let out a shuddering breath, considering his question for a long moment. Do I feel better? The ache of Henry's betrayal still smolders in a dull, insistent throb beneath my breastbone. But with Antonio's steady strength and unwavering care surrounding me, it's easier to keep it from consuming me.

"I think so," I say at last, curling closer into the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth. "I think so."

***?

16

Antonio

The soft morning light filters in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Colette's sleeping form beside me. I trace the delicate curve of her shoulder with my fingertips, marveling at how peaceful she looks at this moment. Her features are relaxed, free of the worry lines that so often crease her brow these days.

It's been two months since the big blowup with Henry, two months of Colette piecing herself back together after that devastating betrayal. I can't even fathom the depth of her hurt — being sold off like a commodity, a pawn in her brother's business machinations. My chest constricts with a now familiar surge of protectiveness mingled with a potent rage toward Henry. What kind of man does something like that to his own flesh and blood?

But in the end, I know the anger I harbor isn't as potent as the guilt Henry must be grappling with. He stuck around for a solid week after the truth came out, hovering outside my door with a steady stream of texts and calls, pleading for a chance to explain himself.

I tried to tune him out, to be the steadying presence Colette needed as she processed her emotions. But I couldn't block out the hurt lacing his voice, the raw desperation as he begged her, and me, for understanding. Maybe it's because I know Henry so well that the cracks in his armor were visible. The leashed control he exuded was nowhere to be found. Just a man torn apart by his own regrets, frantic to make amends.

He left after that first week, returning to the city and his business with his tail between his legs. The calls and texts persist, though. I know Colette reads them, her forehead creasing as she absorbs each message. Part of me wants to comfort her, to ease the burden of her brother's pleas weighing on her mind. But I also know she needs to navigate this minefield of emotions on her own terms.

All I can do is there, bolstering her with gentle touches and soft reassurances when the turmoil gets to be too much. Whispering soothing words into her ear when she wakes up gasping from nightmares that refuse to release their hold.

The steady cadence of her breathing shifts, her lashes fluttering open to reveal those mossy green depths I crave like air. A sleepy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she blinks up at me.

"Morning," she mumbles, her voice still husky from sleep.

I lean in to brush a lingering kiss to her forehead, breathing in the warm, fruity scent of her. "Morning, gorgeous."

She hums, stretching like a lithe cat before curling into my side, her body fitting against mine like a perfect puzzle piece. My arm slides around her of its own accord, tucking her close.

We've developed a knack for gravitating toward each other over these past few weeks. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. The bond between us only seems to deepen with each passing day. There's a peace that settles over me when Colette is near, an elusive sense of calm that soothes the jagged, wounded parts of my soul. Having her in my arms, pressed along the hard lines of my body, centers me in a way I haven't felt in far too long.

If it weren't for the lingering ache of my strained relationship with Henry, I might actually convince myself that I'm happy.

Colette cranes her neck, the motion causing the sheets to slip enticingly lower on her body, and presses a soft, questing kiss to my jaw. Then another, and another, trailing a blazing path toward the corner of my mouth.

I moan low in my throat, the rumbling sound reverberating through my chest as desire flares hot and molten in my veins. Tightening my grip, I roll until I'm cradled between Colette's thighs, my weight pressing her into the mattress.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, anchoring me to her as our kisses escalate from tender to searing. Need thrums through me, that ever-present ache to lose myself in Colette's intoxicating warmth. To let the world and all its complications fade away until there's nothing left but her.

With a low growl, I tear my lips from hers to nip a scorching path down the graceful column of her throat. Colette arches beneath me with a breathless gasp, her nails raking down my back.

"Antonio," she whimpers, rolling her hips in silent invitation.

I don't need to be told twice.

Her legs part as I push them aside, my hand stroking the inside of her thighs as I kiss her neck and collarbone. She clings to me for dear life, warmth pouring out from her as our bodies press together.

I’m hard as a rock in brief moments, and I hear Colette hum as her hand finds my cock. She strokes it ever, her breathing hot and ragged in my ears. Her cool touch fills me with fire, and I can feel my length pulsating in her gentle grip. She parts her legs even further and guides me into her warm wetness.

I let out a sigh of relief and enjoy the sensation of being inside her. This feeling will never get old for me, especially with Colette. It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve had sex, it always feels special and brand new.

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