Page 25 of Taken By the Outlaw

Her expression shifts, fear flashing in those hazel eyes, then something deeper. "Are you... are you letting me go?"

The thought makes something violent rise in my chest, but I push it down. This isn't about what I want. Not entirely.

"That depends," I say, keeping my voice even despite the storm raging inside me. "On what you want."

Her eyes widen, genuine surprise replacing fear. "What I want? Since when does that matter?"

The words sting, but I deserve them. "Since now. Since I realized I can't keep you in a cage."

"A cage?" She looks around our room, at the bed where we've spent nights tangled together, at the books I've had brought in for her, at the clothes I've given her. "Is that what you think this is?"

I step closer, needing to touch her but holding back. "Isn't it? You didn't choose to come here, Emilia. You didn't choose me. I took your choices away."

She studies my face, something shifting in her expression. "At first, yes. But what about after? What about when I ran and came back? What about every night since then?"

"Stockholm syndrome," I say, the words bitter on my tongue. "Adapting to survive."

She laughs, the sound startling in its genuineness. "Is that what you think? That I'm with you because I'm traumatized? Because I have no choice?"

I don't answer, because the truth is, I don't know. Can't know. All I know is that the thought of her staying out of fear rather than desire creates an ache I can't bear.

She moves closer, closing the distance between us, reaching up to touch my face. I stand perfectly still, letting her explore with gentle fingers.

"For someone so dangerous, so feared," she says softly, "you can be remarkably stupid."

Before I can process that, she rises on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is different from our others—not desperate or hungry or dominated by me. It's gentle, tender, her leading while I follow.

When she pulls back, her eyes are clear, direct. "I could have left that night, after the Vipers. You were distracted with the fallout, with securing the compound. But I didn't. I chose to stay then, and I choose to stay now."

"Why?" The question escapes before I can stop it, vulnerability I never show on display.

Her smile is soft, knowing. "Because despite everything—how we met, how this started—I've found something with you I never thought I'd have. Something I'm not willing to give up."

"And what's that?" I ask, needing to hear it.

"Freedom," she says, surprising me again. "Real freedom. Not the kind that comes from being able to walk down any street I want, but the kind that comes from being truly seen. From not having to hide who I am, what I want." Her hand slides to my chest, resting over my heart. "From being with someone who wants all of me, not just the parts that are easy or convenient."

My arms finally move, wrapping around her, pulling her against me. "I do want all of you. Every part. Always."

She looks up at me, something knowing in her gaze. "I know. That's why I'm staying. Because I want all of you too, Clark. The dangerous parts, the controlling parts, the parts that scare other people. I want them because they're you, and you're what I want."

The warmth in my chest expands, threatening to consume me. I've spent my life taking what I want without asking, without apology. But what I want most now—what I need—is something I can't take. It has to be given.

"I need you to be sure," I say, voice rougher than intended. "Because if you stay, if you choose this—choose me—I won't let you go. Not ever. You need to understand that."

"I understand exactly who you are," she says, and there's no fear in her voice, only certainty. "I've seen you beat men unconscious to protect me. I've felt how possessive you are, how controlling. I know you'll never be easy or simple or safe." She presses closer, her body warm against mine. "And I choose you anyway."

Something breaks open inside me—a dam holding back emotions I've denied my entire life. I crush her to me, my mouth finding hers in a kiss that's both claiming and surrender. She responds instantly, arms twining around my neck, body arching into mine.

I lift her, carrying her to our bed, laying her down with more care than I've ever shown anyone. She reaches for me, eager and willing, but I hold back, needing this time to be different.

"Let me look at you," I murmur, hovering above her. "Let me see what's mine."

She flushes but doesn't shy away, letting my gaze travel over her. I reach for the thin straps of her sundress, sliding them down her shoulders with deliberate slowness. The fabric pools at her waist, revealing her to my hungry eyes.

"Beautiful," I breathe, meaning it more than she can know. "Perfect."

I take my time undressing her completely, savoring each new expanse of skin revealed, treating her body with the reverence it deserves. When she's naked beneath me, I step back, removing my own clothes while she watches with dark, desire-filled eyes.

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