Page 130 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
"Only you," she moans, head thrown back in abandon. "Only you, Kade."
"That's right." My pace becomes punishing, relentless. "And I'm going to fill you up. Make you mine in every way."
Her eyes fly open, pupils blown wide with desire.
"Yes," she breathes, and I know she's thinking about it—me coming inside her, the possibility of creating something together.
The thought drives me wild. I reach between us, circling her clit with my thumb as I pound into her.
"Come for me," I demand. "Now."
She shatters instantly, screaming my name as her pussy clamps down around me. The sight of her—flushed and trembling, completely at my mercy—sends me over the edge. I bury myself deep inside her, emptying myself with a guttural groan.
For a moment, we stay frozen like that, both breathing hard. Then I carefully withdraw, pulling her against my chest. Her legs wrap around my waist, arms encircling my neck as I carry her toward the shower.
"Still mad at me?" she murmurs against my throat.
"Furious," I reply, but there's no heat in it anymore. "But you're still alive. That's what matters."
I set her down carefully on the bathroom stool, turning on the shower. As steam fills the room, I examine the bruises on her wrists again.
"Did I hurt you?" I ask, suddenly concerned I might have been too rough in my need to claim her.
She shakes her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "Nothing I didn't want."
I search her face, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort. Finding none, I scoop her into my arms, carrying her toward the shower.
The shower is big enough for four people, with multiple showerheads and a built-in bench. I set Alina down carefully, then turn on the water, adjusting the temperature before guiding her under the spray.
I follow her in, letting the hot water sluice over us both. With careful attention, I wash her hair, my fingers massaging her scalp until the tension melts from her shoulders.
"Better?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Mmm." She leans back against my chest. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be punishing me, you're being awfully nice."
I chuckle, the sound rumbling through me. "The punishment's over, hellcat. This is the aftercare."
She turns in my arms, looking up at me. Water beads on her lashes, making her green eyes seem even brighter. "Is that what we're doing? Aftercare?"
Something shifts in my chest. "It's what I'm doing. Taking care of what's mine."
After I've dried her off, I pull one of my t-shirts over her head. It swallows her slight frame, falling to mid-thigh.
"Come with me," I say, taking her hand. "I have something for you."
I lead her to my home office, watching her reaction as she notices the vintage camera sitting on my desk. Next to it is a small plate with a slice of her grandmother's famous chocolate hazelnut torte.
"Oh my God." She stops in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the camera.
She approaches slowly, as if the camera might disappear if she moves too quickly. It's a Leica M3—not just any M3, but a rare black paint version in pristine condition. These are nearly impossible to find, and when they do surface, they command prices in the tens of thousands.
"How did you..." She turns to me, her surprised expression turning to suspicion. "Right. Stalking."
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "Not exactly."
"Then how?" She gestures to the camera. "These are impossible to find, and that—" She points to the dessert, "—is my grandmother's recipe that she guards more closely than statesecrets."
I move to stand behind her, my hands settling on her shoulders. "I was already obsessed with you after you broke into that warehouse, Alina."
