He tore off the thin fabric on her, and left a trail of kisses from her jaw line to her stomach. He cupped one of her breasts, while his other hand traced the outline of her crazily perfect body.
His touch was hot, rough, and deliberate, as if he owned every inch of her, as if she had been carved only for his hands, his mouth, his claim. Amara arched against him, every nerve ending set afla, her breath breaking into shallow gasps she couldn’t contain.
The room seed smaller with the heat pressing down on them, and the shadows wrapping around their bodies as if to hide what was unfolding, or perhaps to guard it, like a forbidden ritual.
Elias’s mouth dragged lower, tasting her skin as though it were nectar he had been denied for far too long. His teeth scraped against her hipbone, a groan leaving his throat that made her pulse stutter.
She clutched at his hair, her fingers tangling into the strands as if holding him in place, but he was the one who controlled the rhythm, the pace, the very air she breathed. His hand slid up her thigh, spreading fire, possession, hunger that left her trembling beneath him.
"Elias..." she murmured, and then playfully rolled away from him.
Elias froze.
"I have to clean up, and write." Amara said, standing up from the bed, like she didn’t just kill all of his desires.
Elias rolled back to his corner of the bed, and smiled, watching her. He reached for her pillow, to throw it at her, and that was when he saw sothing.
He froze when his eyes caught the faint stain on the sheet. It was a single smudge of crimson against the nude fabric. It was small and fragile, but enough to shake him to his core.
His smile fell away, and his chest tightening with a force he couldn’t na. The realization hit him like a knife through the ribs, jagged and rciless.
"Wait, Belle, were you hurt?" His voice was softer than the storm gathering inside him, but his throat strained around every word.
Amara, still oblivious, tied her hair up into a rough ponytail. Her fingers fumbled cutely with the strands. She rubbed at her sore neck, and blinked the haze from her eyes. "Hurt? Where?"
Her nonchalance twisted the knife deeper. Elias swallowed hard, his body taut, and his gaze locked on the truth laid bare in the sheet. He felt his heartbeat slam into his chest, each beat louder, harder, and even more unsteady.
His voice dropped, thick with a weight he couldn’t disguise. "Were you a virgin before last night?"
She froze.
Amara turned slowly, confusion flickering across her face, then paled into horror when she caught sight of the stain too.
Her stomach dropped, and her pulse scattered. She wasn’t supposed to bleed. She’d believed she wouldn’t. She believed it would be just another step into life, not this glaring scarlet evidence staring them in the face.
Her lips parted, but no sound ca. "Elias, I..."
The look on his face cut her deeper than the truth itself. He was waiting for denial. He was begging for it, but she couldn’t give it.
"You should have told ." His voice cracked, unintentionally sharp, unintentionally brutal. He sat up with a force that rattled the bedfra, running a hand through his hair, every inch of him rigid with sothing between fury and devastation. "What the fuck?"
Amara blinked, her throat closing. Then anger surged. Her anger was sharp and hot. It was a shield against the sting in her chest. "So you’d tell that you don’t fuck virgins? Is that it?" Her words shoot to kill when she gets mad, and she has a lot of regret about that.
His head snapped up. "Of course I don’t fuck virgins!" he roared. His hand clawed through his hair again, like he was about tearing himself apart. "Even if I do, certainly not you."
The words fell between them like a blade.
Amara staggered backward, taking multiple steps she couldn’t count. Her face drained of color, and for a mont, she thought she’d collapse. The words struck her harder than a slap.
"Not ," she whispered, her voice hollow. She repeated it under her breath like it was both a curse and a vow she’d carry forever. "Not ."
His expression crumpled imdiately. "I don’t an it that way." He rose from the bed too quickly, guilt lacing every line of his body. His voice softened, and he pleaded. "I’m sorry, Amara. This is too much."
Her chest heaved, and her heart cracked open. She blinked furiously, willing to push the tears back, but they burned hot anyway.
"No one took seriously as a teenager," she spat, her voice trembling with more pain than rage. "Guys said I was too tall to be a girl. I was a joke to the one person I thought was real. So I stayed away from guys. From dating. It’s not my fault that I’m still a virgin at twenty-five." Her voice broke on the number. "You should have just let have my mont last night. Why show up only to make feel like dirt now?"
Elias staggered where he stood. Her words crushed him harder than any blow he’d ever taken. His fists clenched and unclenched, his jaw tight enough to ache.
"No," he rasped, shaking his head furiously, taking a step toward her. "No, Belle, I never ant it that way." His voice dropped, aching, and stripped raw. "I’m just not worthy of it. I don’t deserve to be the one. It feels like you made a mistake with ."
The truth of his tornt gnawed at him, brutal and unrelenting. Because it wasn’t just about her purity. It was about the lies that bound him, the assignnt shadowing everything, and the way her innocence tangled with his darkness until he couldn’t breathe.
Amara blinked back another hot rush of tears, her chest heaving. "Then leave. Leave my house now. Get out."
Her voice was calm, but anger sat beneath it, cold and steady. She turned away from him, gathering the tattered pieces of her pride.
For a mont, silence reigned between them.
Elias’s chest rose and fell like a man drowning. His hand twitched at his side, as though he wanted to obey. He wanted to flee the room before he hurt her further.
However, sothing rooted him in place. This feeling was stronger than the assignnt, and even his guilt.
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