Page 94 of Shatter Me

The confession leaves me raw, exposed in a way I haven't allowed myself to be in decades. But for her, I'll strip away every defense I've built.

Tash's hands grip my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. My knees protest after kneeling on the marble, but I barely notice the discomfort as she searches my face.

"This." Her voice catches. "This is what I needed. You, being real with me."

She kisses me, soft and sure, and the last of my walls crumble. I wrap my arms around her, drawing her closer, tasting the salt of tears—hers or mine, I'm not sure.

"I love you," I breathe against her lips. "I've never said those words to anyone since my mother. Never wanted to. Never thought I could."

Her fingers tangle in my hair as she pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. "Say it again."

"I love you, Tash." The words come easier this time, like a dam breaking. "I love your passion, your defiance, how you see through every mask I wear."

She kisses me again, deeper, more desperate. I back her against the display case, careful not to disturb the artifacts she cherishes.

"I love you too," she whispers. "God help me, I tried not to. Tried to be smart, to keep my distance."

I trail kisses down her neck. "We're both terrible at keeping our distance."

"I love that you arranged this." Her hands slide inside my jacket. "That you knew exactly what would matter to me."

"I'll spend the rest of my life learning what matters to you." I capture her lips again, pouring twenty years of locked-away emotion into the kiss. "No more secrets. No more half-truths."

She melts against me, and I feel whole for the first time in decades. Complete. The carefully constructed walls I've maintained since watching my mother die dissolve under Tash's touch, under the weight of three words I never thought I'd say again.

"I need you." Her words send a wave of longing through me as she pulls away from my kiss.

My body responds, hardening as I lift her and lay her down on the thick throw blanket I'd prepared for our picnic. But tonight, neither of us is thinking about food.

The soft candlelight caresses her skin, highlighting every curve. I can't stop looking at or touching her.

I hook my fingers in the straps of her dress, sliding the fabric off her shoulders, exposing her inch by inch. My eyes roam over her as I undress her completely, memorizing the sight of her nakedness.

Then I strip myself bare, casting aside my suit jacket and unbuttoning my shirt with impatient hands. I watch her eyes widen as she notices the three dressings over my wounds, which are healing but not fully healed.

Tash's fingers trace the edge of the bandage on my chest, her touch feather-light. "Sofia told me you were shot three times. I hadn't realized..."

"It's nothing." I catch her hand, pressing it flat against my skin. "The doctors cleared me days ago."

"Three times isn't nothing." Her eyes darken with concern. "You could have died."

I lean down to kiss her. "I've had worse."

"That doesn't make me feel better." She props herself up on one elbow, studying the wounds critically. She rises from the blanket to kiss each bandage softly, her lips warm against my skin. "Don't you dare get shot again."

I lower myself over her, skin against skin, and slide into her. We both groan at the intimate connection, foreheads pressed together as we savor the sensation.

I start to move, a gentle rhythm that builds, fueled by longing and the need to be as close as possible. I kiss her passionately, letting her know without words how much I've missed this. Missed her.

"You feel so good." I thread my fingers through hers, holding her hands above her head as I thrust into her. "God, Tash, I've missed being inside you."

"Dmitri..." Her voice is a breathless plea, her body moving beneath mine in perfect synchronicity.

I shift my weight, changing the angle, wanting to give her everything, wanting to doubt that we belong together with this one moment.

I usually crave control, but with Tash, I lose myself in surrender. Our bodies move together in a sensual dance that speaks to the depth of our connection. She arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, driving me deeper into her. Her breathing quickens as her fingers trail down my back, nails gently scraping my skin.

A soft moan escapes her as I change the angle, claiming her more fully. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her unique scent as our bodies join perfectly.

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