Page 62 of Sacrifice
Like I'm trying to memorize the taste of her, the feel of her lips against mine.
She melts into me, hands fisting in my shirt.
"I need you," she breathes against my mouth. "I hate how much I need you, but I do."
"I know, baby. I know."
I lay her back on the bed, taking my time.
This isn't about conquest or proving a point.
This is about connection, about showing her with actions what my words can't fully convey.
That she's safe with me. That she's mine to protect. That I'd die before letting anyone hurt her again.
Her hands shake as she reaches for my shirt.
I help her, tossing it aside before returning to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the spot where her pulse flutters like a trapped bird.
"You're shaking," I murmur.
"Adrenaline crash. Fear. Want. Pick one."
"All valid options." I pull back to look at her. "We can stop. Just sleep."
"No." Her legs wrap around my waist, holding me close. "I need this. Need you. Need to feel something other than how scared I am."
I understand that need.
Have used sex to chase away demons more times than I can count.
But this feels different. Bigger. Like we're crossing a line we can't come back from.
"Saga—"
"Please." Her voice cracks. "Just... make me forget. For a little while. Make me feel safe."
I can do that. Would do anything she asked right now, with her looking at me like I'm salvation instead of damnation.
We move together like we haven’t before, clothes disappearing, bodies remembering their rhythm.
But underneath the intensity brewing between us is something new.
Tenderness. Vulnerability.
The kind of intimacy that comes from walls finally, fully coming down.
"You're so beautiful," I tell her, meaning it. "So fucking strong."
"I don't feel strong."
"You are. Strongest woman I know." I kiss her deeply. "And mine. Whether you admitted it or not, you've always been mine."
"Possessive bastard," she says, but there's affection in it.
"Your possessive bastard," I correct.
We take our time, memorizing each other in a way we haven't before.
