Warning: Mature content in the Chapter
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Evaline:
The world hadn’t yet steadied. My breath ca uneven, shallow, my body trembling as the aftershocks rippled through . The sheets beneath were tangled, my skin still warm from the storm he had drawn out of . Every nerve felt alive, over-sensitized, waiting... aching... for more.
Draven’s hand brushed down my thigh, his touch so gentle that it contrasted sharply with the wildness still blazing in his eyes. He was still between my legs, half-shadowed by the soft sunlight spilling through the window, his chest rising and falling with the sa uneven rhythm as mine.
I watched him silently. He was still dressed, though his shirt clung to his chest, open at the collar, his breath rough as if holding himself back cost him everything. And his erald gaze was holding prisoner.
"Draven..." My voice broke sowhere between his na and a plea.
His gaze flicked down to my lips, then to the rest of sprawled before him. The muscle in his jaw flexed, and for a mont, he looked like a man caught between heaven and sin. Then, he exhaled slowly and moved to my side.
"Don’t look at like that, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rougher than I had heard in a while. "If you do, I won’t stop this ti."
The air around us seed to tighten. I didn’t want him to stop. Not at all.
My fingers reached for him before I could think, curling around the hem of his shirt. I tugged gently, wordlessly asking what my voice couldn’t form. For a heartbeat, he froze. Then, with a sharp exhale, he gave in.
The shirt ca off first. It slid over his shoulders, revealing the hard lines of muscle beneath - the heat, the raw power he usually hid beneath his control. The light filtering from the gaps in curtains painted gold across his skin, highlighting the strength that made shiver for entirely different reasons.
Each motion of his hands as he unfastened his belt felt like an invitation and a warning all at once. His restraint hung by a thread, and I could feel it.
When he finally joined on the bed again, it wasn’t with the slow reverence he had shown before... it was with the kind of hunger that had been chained for far too long.
He kissed hard. His mouth claid mine, and I t him with equal fire. My hands slid over his shoulders, tracing the heat of his skin, the solid fra that felt both terrifying and safe. Every movent was unhurried yet desperate, a dance of control and surrender neither of us wanted to end.
When his hand ca up to cradle my face, the kiss deepened... it beca ssier, needier. His weight pressed into , grounding . His lips broke from mine only long enough to trail down my jaw, over my throat, leaving paths of heat that made my pulse stumble.
I could feel the tremor in his muscles as if he was fighting sothing inside himself. But when my fingers brushed his back, he groaned - a low, guttural sound that made dizzy - and the last of his control snapped.
He rolled, pulling with him until I straddled him. My palms pressed against his chest, feeling the hamring of his heart beneath. He looked up at like a man starved, his gaze devouring every inch of , worshiping and wild all at once.
"Move," he whispered, his voice like gravel, "the way you need to."
The words undid .
I did as told. I rose until my entrance was aligned with his hard erection and I lowered myself. He slipped inside with ease, and as his hardness stretched my inner walls, I moaned.
"Ahh..."
The sound was out of my mouth the mont his crown hit ho inside , so deep and right.
I heard him groan as well, and his grip on my hips tightened slightly.
We were still for a mont or two before I finally started moving.
Every breath, every motion blurred together as we moved - first slow, deliberate, then faster as the need built between us again. The world outside the room ceased to exist.... there was only the rhythm of our bodies, the sound of his voice, the rough catch of his breath in my ear.
At so point, he flipped us, his hands catching my wrists and pinning them gently above my head. His eyes burned into mine, the dominance in his posture both thrilling and consuming.
"Say it," he demanded softly, his voice vibrating through .
I didn’t even know what he wanted to say - his na, maybe, or sothing deeper. But the mont his lips brushed the hollow of my throat, I said it anyway. Over and over, until it beca a plea, a promise, a surrender.
When it beca too much to bear, he changed again - lifting , carrying effortlessly off the bed. I gasped, clutching his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. He pressed against the wall, the cool surface shocking against the heat of our skin. The movent was rougher, wilder, yet there was care beneath every breath he took.
The rhythm of his thrusts shifted between desperate and tender, as though he was trying to morize the feel of every part of . My legs weakened, my body trembling with the effort to hold onto the mont as the world spun again.
Sowhere between our gasps, he whispered things I barely caught - my na, fragnts of emotion that sounded like prayers and curses all at once.
When my strength gave out, he caught easily, carrying back to the bed. The way he looked at then - disheveled, breathless, eyes burning with sothing deeper than lust - made my heart ache.
He brushed a strand of hair from my face and leaned down, his lips ghosting over my forehead, then my temple, then lower.
"Eva," he whispered, his tone ragged. "You undo ."
His mouth found mine again, but this ti the kiss was slow. Reverent. As though he wanted to etch this mont into mory before the fire could consu it completely.
When he finally pulled back, his lips trailed lower again - over the edge of my jaw, down my throat, to the curve where my pulse fluttered uncontrollably. Each kiss grew softer, more deliberate.
My breath caught. I knew where this was going.
He lingered there, just above the spot where a mark would form - the sacred bond that would tie us forever. I could feel his hesitation, the war raging within him.
His lips brushed my skin lightly, barely there, but the promise behind the touch sent a shiver through .
"Draven..." I whispered, my fingers clutching his shoulders.
He humd against my neck, the sound vibrating through . His lips traced small, slow circles, almost reverent, as if asking silently for permission he didn’t need but still wanted.
The possessiveness in his touch softened into sothing achingly beautiful - devotion, protection, love that burned even hotter than desire.
And as he drew one last, lingering kiss against that spot, I knew it wasn’t just passion that tied us, it was sothing ancient, unbreakable.
The mont before everything changed, the world held its breath with .
His mouth hovered at the edge of my skin, his voice barely a whisper against ...
"Mine."
And then he began to trail kisses down the side of my neck, right where he was about to mark .
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