Page 55 of Captive Bride

“Me too, love.”

"You look terrible," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a low chuckle. "You should see the other guy."

“You killed him?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. There was a time when the thought of Tristan killing someone would have horrified me. Now, it was just another reality of our life.

"Come here," Tristan said softly, tugging gently on my hand.

I slid off the bed and into his lap, careful not to put too much weight on him. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent - a mix of sweat, gunpowder, and something uniquely Tristan.

I slid off the bed and into his lap, careful not to put too much weight on him. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent - a mix of sweat, gunpowder, and something uniquely Tristan.

"I missed you," I murmured against his skin.

His hand stroked up and down my back. "I missed you too. Every fucking second."

We sat like that for a while, just holding each other. I could feel the tension slowly leaving Tristan's body, his breathing evening out.

"How long did the doctor say?" Tristan asked suddenly.

I pulled back slightly, confused. "What?

"How long until we can..." He trailed off, a hint of color rising in his cheeks.

"Oh," I said, realization dawning. "At least six weeks. Maybe longer.”

“That’s just until I can fuck you, right?”

I felt my cheeks flush at his blunt words. "Tristan," I whispered, half-scandalized, half-amused.

He grinned, that cocky smirk I both loved and hated. "What? I'm just asking."

I shook my head, unable to hide my smile. "Yes, that's for... penetration. But we shouldn't do anything until I'm healed."

Tristan's hand slid up my back, fingers tangling in my hair. "Anything?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Because I've been thinking about tasting you for weeks."

A shiver ran through me, desire warring with uncertainty. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."

"It doesn't have to be your pussy," Tristan said, his lips brushing my ear. "I could eat your ass. I just want to be close to you, Adriana. To make you feel good."

I bit my lip, torn between wanting him and knowing I should rest. But the heat in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hands - it was intoxicating.

I definitely hadn’t asked the doctor if it was okay to do that but she had specified “penetrative sex”.

My breath hitched as Tristan's fingers traced down my spine. The raw need in his voice made heat pool low in my belly. I wanted him too - desperately. But uncertainty nagged at me.

"Are you sure it's okay?" I whispered. "I don't want to risk anything..."

Tristan cupped my face in his hands, his blue eyes intense. "I'll be gentle, love. We'll stop if anything feels off. I just need to taste you."

A whimper escaped my lips. God, I wanted him. Weeks of stress and fear melted away under his touch. Everything melted away when he touched me.

I nodded slowly. "Okay," I breathed.

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