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“You’re really sexy when you’re being all vulnerable about stuff,” she said.
I laughed, but a surge of desire washed over me as Ade’s fingers danced along my abdomen, finding their way to the zipper of my pants. Her hands were steady, determined, as she freed me from the confines of fabric. I matched her urgency, sliding my hand beneath her skirt, pushing aside the barrier of her panties.
Our breaths mingled, heavy with need, as I entered her slowly. The control was hers; I could only watch, mesmerized, as she set the pace, her movements deliberate and sure. She held my gaze, her dark eyes alight with an intensity that seared through me.
“Tristan,” she whispered, and the sound of my name on her lips, laced with such raw passion, nearly undid me.
“God, Ade,” I grunted in response, my hands aching to pull her closer.
She kissed me then, a kiss that spoke of shared secrets and promises kept. It was a connection that ran deeper than flesh; it was soulful, binding us together in ways words could never express. As she moved above me, I slung an arm around her waist, drawing her down to me.
I kissed the column of her neck, breathing in her scent, which clung to the air between us—a mixture of sweat and perfume that became the most intoxicating fragrance. My mouth found the softness of her breasts, taking her nipple between my lips, eliciting from her a moan that fueled the fire within me.
I drove into her. She arched, a gasp escaping her lips as I hit deep. Our rhythm was frenzied, desperate, the world beyond the door forgotten in the heat of the moment. Her hand tangled in my hair, pulling slightly in a way that shot sparks through my veins. The sight of her, bathed in midday light, ravenous and unashamed—it was a sight that would forever be seared into my memory.
“Look at me,” I murmured against her skin. She obliged, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath away.
“Faster,” she urged, her voice a raspy moan that sent shivers up my spine. The rhythm between us increased, our bodies melding together in an intoxicating dance of desire and lust.
“Adriana,” I breathed out, my voice strained with the intensity of our connection. My eyes were locked onto hers, capturing the raw emotion spread across her beautiful face. She was breathtaking, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she moved above me and tilted her head back.
Her nails traced lines down my chest, a sensual exploration that had me gritting my teeth against the electrifying sensation. “Tristan,” she whimpered, her hips moving in time with mine, driving me further into madness.
“Look at me,” I repeated.
She did, her deep brown eyes meeting mine. I let go of one of her hands, my own threading through her dark hair, holding her steady as she moved against me.
“Tristan,” she whispered my name like a prayer, and the sound of it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. Her rhythm faltered, her body stiffening as her climax approached. “Tristan -”
I met each thrust with my own, feeling the tremors run through her as she came with a soft cry. The sight and feel of her in that moment pushed me over the edge, and I followed after her with a groan.
I held her close as we both came down from our highs, our breaths mingling in the air between us.
“Ade,” I murmured against her neck, pressing a kiss to her damp skin.
“Hmm?” She hummed lazily in response, stretching like a contented cat atop of me.
“I love you,” I said quietly, my words heavy with a lifetime of emotions. Her breath hitched in surprise, but a grin slowly spread across her face.
“I love you too, Tristan.” She replied, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity.
“I’m sorry I have to kill your dad.”
She sighed, her breath trembling. “Yeah, me too,” she said. “Tell me how I can help.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Adriana
We tabled the murder talk for later.
The night had a quiet kind of sacredness to it, the apartment filled with shadows and the rhythmic sound of Tristan’s breathing. It was one of those rare moments where time seemed to halt, allowing us to forget the chaos that trailed our lives like a relentless shadow. I lay there, nestled against his warm chest, feeling the rise and fall as he cradled my burgeoning belly with a gentleness that belied the strength in his hands.
“Tristan,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange. He stirred beside me, his blue eyes fluttering open, meeting mine with a sleepy sort of intensity.
“Morning, love,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer, as if he could shield me and our unborn children from the world with just his touch.
“Have you thought about what’ll happen when they’re here?” I asked, my fingers tracing patterns over his arm. The reality of motherhood, of bringing new life into our complicated existence, felt overwhelming and yet oddly comforting.
He shifted slightly to face me better, his eyes scanning my face with all the attentiveness of a man who thrived on details. “I have, every day,” he admitted. “It’s going to be...different. Challenging, even. But I’m looking forward to it.”
