Page 80 of When Death Whispers

“You can touch me,” I say, voice soft. “Just… gently.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hands slide down to my thighs, slow and reverent, like he’s afraid to break the spell. His thumbs stroke lazy circles into my skin. I close my eyes, letting myself feel it—the heat of his hands, the steadiness in his touch, the way my body responds without fear.

“God, you’re so strong, Silver,” he murmurs, and I feel it in his voice—that awe, that admiration. “So damn strong.”

The words land deeper than I expect. I didn’t know I needed them until they’re already echoing inside me.

He reaches up to push a stray strand of hair behind my ear and I turn my face, pressing a kiss to his palm, then guide his hand down my body, showing him where I want him. Where I trust him.

Hudson’s breath stutters when he finds the wetness between my legs.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough but quiet, his gorgeous eyes filled with emotion.

I nod. “Yes.”

And I mean it.

He touches me with care—exploring, learning, coaxing pleasure from me until I’m trembling above him, clinging to his shoulders as he steadies me with one hand and strokes me with the other.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His voice is the tether I didn’t know I needed.

My hips grind down against his fingers, chasing something sharp and hot and healing. Every time I start to falter, he’s there. Quiet. Steady.Mine.

When the orgasm crashes through me, I break. Cry out. Shake. Come undone in his arms.

Hudson holds me through it, whispering my name like it’s sacred.

And then—when my breath evens and the world sharpens around the edges again—I find his eyes again, the storm I find brewing in them bringing me back to that dream that wasn’t a dream.

“Please,” I whisper, hips still rocking lazily. “I need to feel you inside me again.”

His eyes darken. A growl rumbles from his chest. His hands grip my hips like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

I answer by grabbing hold of his cock and sliding my hand down the length of it, loving the weight. Then, guiding it to my entrance, I lift my hips and sink down onto him in one smooth motion. We both gasp at the sudden sensation, the feeling of fullness, of connection. For a beat, we’re perfectly still, my eyes on his ocean blues, a world of meaning being communicated without words while savoring the moment.

Then I move.

Slow. Intentional. Riding him with purpose, taking what I want, savoring every second. Hudson’s hands roam my body, reverent and exploring, like he’s discovering me all over again. I kiss him, searing and deep, and he matches every thrust with words whispered against my lips.

“You take me so well.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“I’m right here.”

The heat builds, curling tight and molten at the base of my spine. I’m gasping now, chasing it again, barely holding on.

Hudson knows. His grip tightens. His thrusts grow deeper, matching my rhythm.

And then?—

I fall.

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