Page 118 of Hawthorne

“I love you,” he whispers so low I barely hear it. “I fell in love with you so fucking hard that I’d throw my life away for you. All I’ve worked for means nothing if I don’t have you.”

My world twirls, with the heaviness of his words throwing me off balance. The floor feels unstable and muddy, and it could swallow me whole in a matter of seconds. If it weren’t for Vincent’s strong hands around me, I’d be on the ground by now.

He loves me.

“Oh, god–” I stutter, speechless. “V-Vincent…”

“You don’t need to say it back.” He shakes his head. “I know you’re terrified. I am, too, but I just...I can’t take this anymore. I’ll suffocate.I fucking love you.”

I shudder. Does he?Will he?

The doubt implanted in the back of my brain still lurks, not letting me believe it fully, but the adrenaline from hearing those words out loud allows me to ignore it.

At least, just for now.

“Show me.”

“Oh, sweetlittle Milla.I’ll show you alright.”

His lips crash against mine with a searing kiss as his hands slowly wander to my torso. The pads of his fingers graze the skin there. It’s slow and gentle, as if he is cherishing it.Me. Usually, we’re frenetic, intense, and passionate, but this time, it’s the other way around. It’s a side to Vincent I thought I’d never meet, the part that was never meant to be mine.

We undress each other slowly and end up in bed, kissing, groping, and caressing each other. No rush. It’s unbearably hot, with his skin on mine, his warm lips on my mouth and skin, showing affection—thelove.

“Oh, god,” I moan, overwhelmed with the emotions.

Sensory overload, but I can’t stop it. I don’t want it to stop.

He loves me back.

I have never felt so happy before.

Knowing our entanglement is just fleeting has always been dreadful. But what I feared the most was realising that the feelings that have grown so deep and strong within me were not reciprocated. And now I know they are matching mine.

Knowing this gives me renewed strength. We might be able to make it.

In the heat of the moment, so way in over our heads, lost in each other, we don’t remember anything else. No other details or thoughts other than the want—the need—of being connected.

When the groping and grinding are no longer enough, he lifts his weight off of me for a few moments, stopping to look at me.

I am way past being shy in front of him. Instead, I look back, admiring the Greek god in front of me.

His dark irises are hooded as they scour down my body.

“You’re perfect,” he mutters.

Then, he grabs his dick and glides it over my slit a couple of times before finally aligning it with my entrance. He stops there, raising his eyes and locking them on mine. The intensity makes me shudder at the exact moment his hips slowly thrust in.

I feel my eyes twitch, wanting to shut, but I bear through it, keeping our gazes connected.

It means more than sex this time around. We’re not only connected physically but also spiritually. Two bodies functioning as one.

“I love you,” he pants, lips brushing mine with, his eyes blazing into my own. “I love you so much it hurts.”

I know what he means.I feel it, too.

The adoration, tenderness, love, and desperation that clings to all of those, intertwining them as one. It’s all so overwhelming, filling me to the brim with happiness.

Holding on to him, I answer his feelings through a little gasp,” I love you, too.”

---