Page 79 of Teach Me to Fly

We’re still damp from the pool when we get to the guest house, my curls dripping water down my back, while the hem of the shirt I borrowed from Lando sticks to my thighs. Every step leaves a faint trail of water on the floor, but none of that matters because the second the front door clicks shut behind us, Reign’s on me.

Lips crashing against mine, hands in my hair, teeth catching my bottom lip as I gasp into his mouth. I don’t know who reaches for who first. All I know is that we’re both hungry—wild with it—and the second his tongue touches mine, my knees almost give out.

He backs me into the wall, our bodies slamming together, soaked fabric and flushed skin colliding in the dark. My fingers tug at his shirt, dragging it over his head as he kisses me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

We stumble down the hallway, tearing at each other’s clothes and flinging the damp material behind us. He mouths at my throat as we move, then he grips my waist, spinning me into another wall. I whimper when his thighslips between mine, pressing up where I need him most. He grinds there once—slow and deep—and I bite down on his shoulder.

By the time we reach his bedroom door, I’m panting. Almost naked and completely undone. Reign pauses with his hands on my waist, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to keep himself tethered. He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek.

“Angel,” he murmurs, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. “Do you want to try it tonight?”

I blink, breath catching. “Try what?”

His fingers gently trail up my sides.

“The knife,” he says quietly. “Only if you’re ready to test out your pain kink.”

I go completely still, because being naked with him is already terrifying enough. He hasn’t seen all of me yet, the worst of me. The places where I’ve carved reminders into my skin. The raw, ruined parts. The ones Alec made me feel like I’d never reclaim.

But this isn’t Alec, this is Reign.

When I look up, his expression isn’t lusty or pushy, it’s patient, focused on me. He’s giving me the choice. And maybe… just maybe… letting him all the way in—scars and all—might help me take back something that was stolen.

So, I nod, slowly. “Yes.”

He exhales, eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. “Tell me to stop anytime. Do you understand?”

“I will,” I whisper.

Because I want this. Not because I enjoy pain for the sake of it—but because I want to feel something that belongs to me.Something no one took. Something I can control. And right now, I want Reign to be the one to give it to me.

He kisses me once, then leads me into the room. I watch as he disappears into the closet for a moment, and when he comes back, his expression has shifted. His body language is different now—more in control.

He sets the knife on the nightstand, and I stare at it. It’s a beautiful black steel, the edge gleaming even in the low light of Reign’s bedroom. It looks dangerous in a way that makes my blood heat and my thighs clench in anticipation. Reign turns to me and runs his fingers down my bare arms.

“Lie back for me,” he whispers.

I climb onto the bed, heart pounding, and sink into the pillows.

He undresses me the rest of the way—slowly, with worship—kissing along every inch of new skin he uncovers. His hands move with care, but his eyes never stray. He sees the faint white lines that slash across my ribs, and the pale, ridged scars on the insides of my thighs. He doesn’t flinch or ask questions. He just kisses me softly, everywhere.

“Thank you for letting me see you,” he whispers into the space between my breasts.

Then he picks up the knife. It’s cool to the touch when the flat side of the blade drags along my collarbone. My breath hitches, but not in fear,in want. His eyes stay on mine as he glides the blade lower, pressing the blunt edge to the dip between my ribs, then down the curve of my waist, teasing me.

He watches my reactions carefully. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he says again, voice husky.

He leans forward, kissing the inside of my thigh, just above one of my oldest scars. He whispers something I can’t quite make out and when he rises, he shifts the knife in his hand and slices a shallow line along my hip, just below the bone. My body jerks from the sheer electricshock of it. The pain is immediate, bright, and weirdly beautiful.

I gasp, and then I moan.My legs fall open instinctively, like my body knows exactly what it wants before I do.

Reign’s eyes flash. “You like that?” he asks softly, voice full of awe and heat.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Fuck, yes.”

He leans down and presses a kiss just above the fresh cut, then goes lower. He doesn’t give me time to recover before he slides his fingers between my legs and touches me like he owns me. Like he’s trying to worship and ruin me at once.

The sting of the cut lingers, making every other sensation sharper. My body is on fire, so keyed up that I cry out when his thumb grazes my clit. My hips roll up against his hand, shameless now, and greedy.

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