Page 231 of Fractured Devotion
Our breath is loud and heavy, mixing in the dark, both of us wrecked, undone, and completely spent.
And in that raw, breathless aftermath, neither of us lets go.
We just hold on, exactly where we both belong.
There are no words left.
Just us.
Exactly where we both belong.
And neither of us plans to let go.
The air still feels thick, heavy with the weight of everything we just gave away.
I lie there with him, tangled in sheets and sweat, the faint scent of sex clinging to our skin.
Our breaths gradually begin to even out, but my heart keeps pounding, not just from the release, but from the lull that makes every heartbeat louder.
He doesn’t speak, his chest rising and falling against mine in a steady rhythm.
I tilt my head slightly, watching the shadows play across his face. The hard lines of him have softened here, stripped bare in every way.
His hand grazes down my spine, soft now, soothing. A lingering touch, tender and steady, as though he’s memorizing every inch of me.
I shiver at the contact, though there’s no chill in the room.
“You’re not leaving,” he says, his voice rough and low, but there’s no demand in it now.
Just certainty.
I hum softly, not ready to answer. Instead, I run my fingertips along his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch.
It comforts me more than I expect.
“I wasn’t sure I’d survive this,” I murmur, my voice soft, not quite trembling but close.
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t offer empty reassurances.
He simply tightens his arm around me, pulling me closer until there’s no space left.
“You don’t have to survive it alone,” he says softly, and there’s a rawness in his voice that I’ve never heard before.
My throat tightens.
I press a kiss to his skin, right above his heart, and linger there longer than I should. “We shouldn’t make promises just yet,” I whisper against his skin.
His hand tangles in my hair, gently tipping my face up to meet his gaze.
“I’m not making promises,” he replies, his eyes locked on mine, dark but steady. “I’m making choices.”
The words sink deep, wrapping around something fragile inside me.
I don’t reply.
I simply hold him tighter.
And for once, I don’t feel the need to run.
