There was something about him. Alexandre. Something I had never learned how to resist.
He moved through the world with his own gravity, and I had been caught in his orbit long before I even knew it. I was drawn to everything. From the way his green eyes claimed mine with quiet intensity, the steady strength in his hands, the heat of his body pressed close against mine. His naturally-musky, intoxicating scent, lingering on my skin, filling my lungs like a secret I didn't want to forget.
His breath faltered when I finally leaned down to kiss him, that small loss of control sending a thrill through me.
One hand wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me so close I could feel every line of his body, pressed against mine. The other slipping beneath his shirt I was wearing, fingers sliding under the edge of my bra to grasp my breast firmly, his touch both possessive and tender.
My breath caught sharply as I ground my hips against the hard length straining beneath his boxer shorts, desperate to feel him fully inside me. The thin fabric was the only barrier, making the need between us pulse louder, more urgent and unrelenting.
I couldn't hold back any longer. My hand slipped beneath his shorts, fingers closing around his cock, stroking him slow, deliberate. His breath hitched, the sharp intake making his body tense beneath my touch.
"Fuck," he gasped, voice rough. "I won't last much longer like this."
A wicked smile curved my lips as I slid off the sofa to kneel before him. "Good," I breathed, eyes locked on his burning gaze. "Means I've won. And I know exactly how many times you can go."
His thighs parted, desire blazing in his eyes as I freed him completely, bringing him to my lips. I kept my eyes on his, sucking him in slow, deliberate pressure. His hands found my face, fingers threading through my hair with a tenderness that pulled at my heart, even as his body begged for more.
I quickened my pace, taking all of him deep inside me. His tip pressing against the back of my throat relentlessly as I savored his taste, the slick warmth of his pre-cum coating my tongue. Tears welled at the corners of m eyes as his hand tightened in my hair, urging me up and down his shaft harder, faster.
But I didn't pull back.
I reveled in the heat that sparked and grew between us with every flick of my tongue and every deep, deliberate suck.
"I love seeing you like this," he murmured, his voice ragged and breathless. "Fuck, you're so beautiful, my love."
I felt him pulse against my lips, his hips grinding harder and faster. His movements turned ragged and desperate. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed like someone high on fire and lust. He was close.
But just as I thought he was about to come, he lifted me effortlessly from the floor, pulling me back to straddle him. His hands moved fast peeling off my shirt, then my bra, leaving my skin bare under his hungry gaze.
"Fuck, I love you," he growled, crashing his lips against mine as I finally lowered myself onto him in one fierce, electrifying motion.
He gasped against my lips but kept kissing me. Our breaths tangling, bodies burning, everything raw and coming alive.
I rode him hard and fast, every thrust raw and relentless. Our bodies collided with urgent desperate hunger, both of us chasing our highs. The sound of skin slapping against skin, his low grunts mingling with my sharp moans filled the room and took over our senses.
My fingers clawed into the back of the sofa behind him, gripping tight as waves of heat and desire surged through me. His hands held my hips firmly, moving in perfect rhythm with mine, driving deep to reach the most sensitive, untouchable parts of me. The world shrinking until nothing existed but the feel of him thrusting, claiming me in the most intimate, consuming way possible.
His mouth found my breast, teeth sinking into my nipple with a fierce hungry bite that sent shockwaves taring through my body. The rough flick of his tongue over my sensitive skin ignited wildfires beneath my flesh, while the tenderness burning in his eyes bound us in this fierce, unbreakable connection.
Our movements grew wilder, more raw and desperate. Every nerve burning with need. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the mounting pleasure, the tension between us snapping like live wires.
Then, with a shuddering crash, we tumbled over the edge together.
I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the hot, pulsing rush of him spilling deep inside me, filling me completely. I sat on his lap, breathless and trembling, his hands tightened around my hips, holding me still, ensuring not a single drop was wasted.
I was utterly undone, completely his.
"I love you, Alex," I murmured against his neck, my lips lingering there, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin as I was coming down from my own high.
"I love you, too," he whispered, his fingers slipping into my hair gentle and reverent, like he was afraid I might disappear if he held me too tightly. There was a pause, a fragile breath between us. "Isla...you're not pregnant, are you?" he asked softly, his voice careful, like he was holding something delicate in his hands.
Maybe it was the tenderness in the way he said it. Or maybe it was everything. The violence, the fear, the way he still held me like I was something worth saving. Whatever it was, it broke something open inside me.
My vision blurred as tears slipped free, warm against my temples and disappearing into his skin.
"Isla..." he murmured, and there was a quiet ache in his voice.
He drew back just enough to see me, his hand cradling my face. His thumb brushing beneath my eye, catching each tear as it fell, his touch impossibly gentle. He looked at me like my pain was his, like he would carry it for me if he could.
My lips parted, but nothing came out.
The words were there. Heavy. Terrifying and real.
But I couldn't say them.
I shook my head weakly, holding onto his bare shoulders like he was the only thing keeping me standing. "I..." My voice broke. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. "I can't. I'm sorry."
His brows pulled together in concern. Though he didn't push. He never pushed.
I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the weight of his eyes. "If you want to know," I whispered, my voice barely there, "you can go through my medical files."
The words tasted like surrender. Because I was too much of a coward to deliver the truth myself.
Silence settled between us.
For a moment, he didn't move.
He might leave me because of this. He would have every reason to. Once I secured the empire for him, my purpose would be fulfilled. I had been raised to believe that a woman held no value if she couldn't bear her husband a child, no matter how powerful her name was, or how much blood she had spilled to earn her place.
It was still considered a disgrace.
For a moment, he didn't move. The silence stretched between us, thick with everything I was too afraid to say.
But then his hand slid beneath my chin, lifting my face until I had no choice but to look at him.
Only him.
"I don't care," he said softly.
I frowned faintly, my breath catching.
His thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. "Not about whether you are or you aren't." His gaze searched mine, steady and certain. "I only care that you're healthy. That you're here. With me."
My throat tightened.
"And if it's meant to be," he continued quietly, "it's meant to be."
His forehead rested against mine.
"And if it never happens," he added gently, unwavering, "then it never happens."
His hand sliding to the back of my neck, holding me there, anchoring me.
"It doesn't change anything," he whispered. "As long as I have you."
The words broke something inside me. Not painfully, but tenderly.
Like something that was long frozen had finally begun to thaw.
I closed my eyes and breathed him in, letting myself exist here, in his arms. In this fragile, impossible peace.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like something to fear.
Only something we would face.
Together.