Cassian's POV
She was laid out beneath me like a dream — her hair fanned across the dark velvet, lips swollen from my kisses, eyes shining up at me like I hung the stars for her.
I couldn't rush this.
I wouldn't.
My hand brushed her cheek, slow and reverent.
"You're sure about this?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
Arielle nodded without hesitation, her hands sliding up my chest, clutching at me like she couldn't bear any more distance between us.
"I want you, Cassian," she whispered, her voice trembling with need.
"Only you."
God help me.
I leaned down, kissing her again — slower this time, savoring the way she sighed into my mouth, the way her body arched instinctively toward mine.
Her scent, sweet and clean, wrapped around me, made my head spin.
I slid my hands beneath her top, tugging it over her head.
She shivered slightly as the cool air kissed her skin, and I took a moment just to look at her.
She was breathtaking — every soft curve, every vulnerable, trusting inch of her.
I kissed down her throat, across her collarbone, feeling her pulse flutter against my mouth.
My fingers found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it easily.
The second it slid away, I heard her breath hitch — a shy, uncertain sound.
I lifted my head and met her gaze.
"You're perfect," I said, meaning every damn word.
Her cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't look away.
Brave, even now.
I kissed my way lower, tracing the swell of her breasts with my tongue, feeling her squirm and moan softly under me.
Her hands found my hair, tugging gently, encouraging.
God, she was so responsive — every touch making her body tremble, every kiss stealing a gasp from her lips.
I took my time, worshipping her skin, tasting every inch of her until she was whimpering, desperate, moving restlessly beneath me.
When I finally pulled her jeans down her legs, I saw it — the way she squeezed her thighs together, shy.
The slight tremble in her hands.
My heart squeezed in my chest.
"Arielle," I murmured, pressing a kiss just above her navel.
"Have you… ever done this before?"
She bit her lip, looking almost guilty.
Then she shook her head slowly.
"No," she whispered. "I haven't."
Everything inside me stilled.
I closed my eyes, breathing deep to control the rush of emotions — pride, protectiveness, fierce tenderness.
She was giving me something she had never given anyone.
Her trust.
Her first everything.
I slid back up her body and kissed her deeply, trying to pour every emotion into it.
When I pulled away, I pressed our foreheads together, breathing hard.
"I'll take care of you, baby," I promised.
"I'll go slow. You tell me if anything hurts, okay?"
She nodded, her fingers tightening in my shirt.
I stood only long enough to shed my own clothes, aware of her wide eyes following every movement.
When I finally settled between her thighs, I could feel how tense she was — nerves, excitement, fear all wrapped together.
I kissed her again, slow and deep, my hand sliding between us.
I stroked her gently, finding her already slick and warm, her body betraying how ready she was even if her mind still raced.
I worked her slowly, circling her most sensitive spot with my fingers, teasing her entrance gently until her hips began to move against me, her breathing shallow and ragged.
When I felt her start to relax, I lined myself up, my heart hammering in my chest.
I kissed her temple.
"I need you to trust me," I whispered.
"I do," she breathed against my skin.
Carefully, slowly, I began to push in.
Her body tensed immediately, and I stilled, giving her time, stroking her sides, whispering in her ear.
"It's okay, baby," I soothed. "Breathe. I've got you."
She whimpered softly, a mixture of pain and overwhelming sensation.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, but she didn't tell me to stop.
I inched deeper, feeling the resistance of her innocence — so tight, so impossibly hot around me.
My teeth gritted against the instinct to slam into her, to claim her fully.
No.
This was about her.
Only her.
I rocked gently, patient, until I felt her body begin to yield, accepting me inch by slow inch.
When I finally broke through, she gasped sharply, a tear sliding from the corner of her eye.
I froze, wiping it away immediately.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrassed.
"Don't be," I said fiercely.
"You're doing perfect. Just… let me take care of you."
God, the way she moved beneath me — it was going to kill me.
Arielle was everything.
Every gasp she made, every shiver that wracked her body as I pushed deeper, it branded itself onto my soul.
She clung to me like I was the only thing anchoring her to this world — her hands clutching at my shoulders, her nails dragging down my back as if she needed more, needed all of me.
Her body was so tight, so impossibly hot, like she was made for me and me alone.
Every slow thrust made her whimper, her legs trembling around my waist, her toes curling with every new inch I gave her.
The way she looked up at me — wide-eyed, overwhelmed, trusting — it shattered something deep inside me.
She was panting, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed a deep pink that traveled down her neck, her chest.
I watched, obsessed, as every tiny movement of my hips made her gasp, arch, plead without words for more.
She was so sensitive, every touch sending little shudders through her body.
When I brushed my thumb over her clit in slow circles while staying deep inside her, she almost sobbed, her whole body tightening around me in response.
It made my control snap and fray at the edges.
I could feel how wet she was, how she gripped me like velvet and fire at once, her body desperate to hold me deeper, closer.
She was whimpering my name now, broken little sounds that drove me insane.
"You're doing so good for me, baby," I murmured against her mouth, my voice raw, wrecked.
"So fucking good."
Her hips began moving with mine, hesitant at first, then more confidently, meeting each deep thrust like she was learning how to dance with me.
And when her climax hit her — her body seizing, her head thrown back, a beautiful, wild cry tearing from her throat — it felt like the whole world exploded around us.
Her inner walls clenched down hard, milking me, dragging me with her into the abyss.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
I buried myself as deep as I could go, pouring everything into her — my body, my soul, my fucking heart.
I spilled into her with a groan, holding her tight, burying my face in her neck, never wanting to let go.
We stayed tangled like that, breathing each other in, hearts racing, bodies slick with sweat and love.
She was so beautiful in that moment it almost hurt to look at her.
She had given me everything.
Her trust.
Her innocence.
Her love, even if she hadn't said it yet.
And fuck, I was never letting her go.
I stayed inside her for a moment longer, not wanting to leave the warmth of her body, not wanting to lose the feeling of being so completely connected to her.
Her heartbeat pounded against mine, frantic and beautiful.
When I finally shifted, she whimpered softly, clinging to me.
I kissed her forehead, brushing sweaty strands of hair from her face.
"Shhh, I'm here," I whispered, stroking her side.
"I've got you, baby."
Carefully, I pulled out of her, feeling her body shudder from the sensitivity.
A little gasp escaped her lips, and I immediately gathered her into my arms, lifting her off the bed as if she weighed nothing.
But as I shifted back, my gaze dropped down between us — and I saw it.
The faint smears of blood on her thighs, on the sheets.
A sharp, protective ache punched through my chest.
It wasn't just the physical proof of what we'd done — it was the reminder of what she had given me.
Her first time.
Her trust.
All of herself.
I touched her thigh gently, feeling her shiver under my fingertips.
"You're okay, princess," I murmured, kissing the inside of her knee softly.
"That's normal. You're perfect."
She looked at me, a faint flicker of embarrassment crossing her face, and it fucking gutted me.
Before she could even think to feel ashamed, I wrapped the covers around her, shielding her from the cooling air.
"Stay right here," I said, stroking her cheek.
"I'll take care of it."
Moving quietly, I stripped the stained sheet off the bed, tossing it into the hamper.
I pulled fresh linens from the closet — crisp, clean, soft — and made the bed again in record time, wanting her to feel comfortable, safe.
When I turned back to her, she was watching me through heavy, drowsy eyes, her face so soft it made my heart squeeze painfully.
I scooped her up without a word, carrying her bridal-style toward the bathroom.
She buried her face in my chest, her arms wrapping around my neck, trusting me completely even in her rawness.
I carried her through the dimly lit penthouse, into the bathroom— a huge space with a massive bathtub .
I sat her down gently on the toilet sit , like she was something precious — because she was.
She looked up at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and something even deeper — love, maybe.
It hit me like a punch to the chest.
I crouched beside the toilet sit , brushing my knuckles across her cheek.
"You okay, princess?" I asked softly.
She nodded, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.
"A little sore… but happy," she whispered.
God, she could have asked me for the world right then and I would have handed it to her without blinking.
"I'll run you a bath," I said.
"Nice and warm. It'll help."
I pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to the bathtub , turning on the taps, letting the big marble tub fill with steaming water.
I found a bottle of lavender-scented bath oil — something the cleaning service had left — and poured a little in.
The scent filled the air, calming, sweet.
"Come on, princess," I said, scooping her up again.
"Let me take care of you."
She didn't resist, just curled into me, trusting me with that quiet, fierce loyalty she had.
I lowered her into the warm bath slowly, watching the tension melt from her body.
She sighed, her head lolling back against the edge, her hair floating around her like dark silk.
I knelt beside the tub, grabbing a soft cloth, running it gently over her skin.
Every curve, every bruise my hands had left, every place where our bodies had come together — I washed her with infinite care, like she was sacred.
She watched me through heavy lashes, a soft, dazed smile on her lips.
"You're spoiling me," she murmured.
"You deserve it," I said simply.
After a while, when her body was loose and relaxed again, I helped her out, wrapping her in a thick towel.
I dried her carefully, kissing her shoulders, her knees, her hands — every part of her that had been brave enough to give itself to me tonight.
When she was warm and dry, I lifted her again, carrying her back to bed.
I slid in beside her, pulling the covers over us, tucking her against my chest.
She sighed, nuzzling closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over my heart.
"Stay," she whispered, as if she was afraid I might leave.
I tightened my arms around her immediately.
"I'm not going anywhere, Arielle," I said fiercely.
"You're mine now. And I'm yours."
She smiled against my skin, her breath soft and warm.
For a long time, we just lay there, wrapped up in each other, the city lights painting soft shadows across the room.
No words needed.
Just breathing together, hearts beating in sync.
Eventually, I felt her breathing even out, slow and steady.
She was asleep — safe, loved, mine.
I kissed the top of her head, whispering against her hair:
"I love you, princess."
I didn't care that she couldn't hear it yet.
I didn't care if it scared me how deeply I felt for her.
Because in that moment, holding her in my arms, I knew:
She was it for me.
Always.