Matilda
Icouldn’t hold back the soft gasp of pleasure as Henry carried me into the bedroom — my thigh locked around his waist, my fingers tangled in his hair. He was so bloody sexy I could hardly think straight.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured against my neck, his breath hot against my skin, sending shivers straight through me. He kicked the door open, and it hit the wall with a quiet thud.
The room was dark, lit only by the silver wash of moonlight spilling across the floorboards. It caught the sharp planes of his face — the chiselled jaw, the curve of his lips — and I swear I could have stared at him forever.
He lowered me gently onto the bed, and in one smooth motion, tore his shirt over his head. My breath hitched. His body was all hard lines and soft skin — strength and warmth perfectly balanced.
He caught me staring and gave that slow, knowing smirk that always made my knees weak. Then he leaned down, his fingerscurling under the hem of my dress, pulling it up and over my head in one swift move.
“Keep looking at me like that, my little sunshine,” he said, his voice rough and low, “and I’ll have to devour you.”
My little sunshine.
The words hit me straight in the chest. He’d never called me that before — and God, I loved it.
His lips found the hollow just below my ear, tracing a path down my neck and along my jaw. My head fell back instinctively, my body arching toward him, silently begging for more. Everything about Henry was intoxicating — the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that had ever mattered.
He made me feel alive. Wild. Unrestrained.
Before him, I thought I knew what good sex was. I’d been satisfied before, sure — but this? With him, it was something entirely different. I was insatiable. My hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, every inch of him I could reach, memorising the feel of him. This man. My man.
He’d told me he was falling for me — that he couldn’t hide it anymore — and those words had lifted a weight I didn’t realise I’d been carrying.
His hands traced down my sides, mapping my skin like he was learning every inch by heart. When his palm closed over my breast, his thumb brushed lightly across my nipple, sending a tremor through me. He did it again, harder this time, and the sound that escaped me wasn’t a word but a plea.
“Henry…” I gasped.
“Yes, my sunshine?” he whispered, his lips at my throat.
“More,” I managed, breathless. “Please.”
His answering groan vibrated against my skin. “I’ll give you whatever you want, sunshine. Anything.”
His hand slid lower, fingertips drawing soft, deliberate circles that made my whole body tremble. My hips lifted, chasing his touch, desperate for more. He tilted my chin, forcing my gaze back to his, and when our eyes locked, something inside me cracked wide open.
Then his mouth was on mine — fierce, consuming — and I melted into him completely.
“You’re mine,” he panted between kisses.
All I could do was nod, lost in him, in the heat, in the wild rhythm we’d created.
When his fingers left me, I almost cried out — until he gripped my thighs, pulling me down the bed and positioning himself between my legs. The look in his eyes stole my breath. He lowered himself until our noses brushed, his body poised against mine.
“I—” His voice broke, rough with emotion. “I love you.”
A choked sob escaped me just as his mouth found mine again. The kiss was deep, desperate, and full of everything we hadn’t yet said.
Then he moved inside me — slow, deliberate — and the world went still.
Every motion, every touch felt like a promise. This wasn’t just desire anymore. It was something far greater — a declaration without words.
We moved together, perfectly in sync, like we were made to fit this way. Every kiss, every sigh, every whispered name felt sacred. And when we finally shattered together, our bodies trembling, our hearts racing in unison, it felt like coming home.
The moonlight spilled across the sheets, wrapping us in silver as we lay tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and still. Henry shifted, rolling me gently onto his chest and holding me close — his heartbeat strong beneath my palm.
“Henry,” I whispered, lifting my chin to look at him.
