Page 31 of Fallen Empire
I ran one hand up his chest, the other threading into his hair and tugging hard enough to draw a growl from his throat. My entire body pulsed at the sound. A raw, masculine sound that struck something feral inside me.
His hands gripped my thighs like a vow written in skin. Like I’d always belonged to him, even if neither of us dared to say it out loud. When his fingers dug into my flesh, the pressure was so sharp and possessive it sent a jolt of electricity straight through my core. I almost came undone right there.
It was starvation.
A hunger born of loss, of grief, of everything we hadn’t said and everything we couldn’t.
It was desperation wrapped in heat.
The kind of ache that didn’t ask permission. It just took.
His lips crashed into mine again, and I opened to him fully. Tongue against tongue, breath tangled with breath. My senses were on fire. Everything about him—his taste, his warmth, the ache in his touch—wrapped around me like a fever I didn’t want to break.
And in that wild, frantic moment, I made myself a promise.
I wouldn’t fall.
Not again.
It wasn’t a risk I’d wanted to take.
If anyone could break through me... if anyone could touch the parts I’d buried and never planned to dig up again, it was him.
He made me feel safe. More than that, I felt like he saw me. Every dark corner, every sharp edge—and didn’t flinch. He could destroy every wall I’d spent years building, if only I let him.
But I held the line.
I would use him to feel alive again. Let him use me in return.
No expectations. No future. No strings.
Because if I ever let myself want more—if I dared to hope...
He’d shatter me.
And this time, I wouldn’t survive it.
A sound pierced the haze.
High-pitched. Sharp. Ringing.
Not in my ears this time. It was real. Close.
My phone.
“Shit,” I breathed, shoving Ben back with more force than I meant to as I scrambled off the counter. My feet hit the floor hard, and I lunged for my purse, fingers fumbling with the zipper until I finally yanked it open.
“Hello?”
My voice came out breathless, uneven. Whether from the jolt of panic or the heat still pulsing through me, I couldn’t tell.
“It’s time,” Jaxson said, voice steady.
He didn’t comment on the rasp in my voice. Didn’t need to.
“They’re taking her off the vent,” he continued. “She’s strong enough to try breathing on her own.”
My pulse slammed into overdrive.
