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Everything had flipped.
His movements were now slow, his touch gentle. Everything calculated and agonizing as his hands slid to my knees to hitch one leg up around his narrow hip and
then the other. They raced back up my legs to tighten around my hips, forcing my body away from the wall.
His body was shaking harder and his chest was now heaving against mine, like he was trying to force himself to breathe again.
I’d been near Kieran enough times when he’d been on the edge of going dark. It was so physically taxing that he shook from the strain of trying to stay in control of his own mind—from fighting that thing inside him.
If he was shaking now . . .
He was still fighting.
“Let go,” I said, my voice raw and bordering a plea.
His forehead rolled along mine, his lips brushing across mine from where they peeked out beneath the shirt.
“I trust you.”
Another shuddering breath ripped from his body. And then another. With the next, he breathed the words “I love you,” across my lips.
My heart wrenched and tears filled my eyes.
And then Kieran went completely, utterly still.
No breathing.
No trembling.
The room around us felt so silent and so cold. I’d never felt anything more evil pressing down around me.
I could feel my own twisted mind responding, that old weakness flaring up. But it was silenced from the echoing of those three words.
Men had said those three words to me my entire life.
But those words had never broken me. They’d never stripped me bare. They’d never made me hate myself or had me longing to say them back.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
“Kieran . . .”
I felt his mouth pull into a grin against my own. I didn’t have to be able to see it—see him—to have fear pulse through me in response.
I pressed my forehead harder against his, my chest rising and falling unevenly. “I trust you.”
My cry shattered the deafening silence in the room when his hands flexed against my hips and he forced himself inside me.
He was rough and possessive, demanding and unrelenting.
His fingers gripped and worshipped, powerful and sure to bruise.
And yet . . . a plea for more was on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t catch my breath as he forced his length into me again and again.
His hands ran up my stomach and skimmed my breasts, my head falling back against the wall when they continued over my arms to grip just below the chains as his mouth fell to my lace-covered breast.
His teeth scraped and mouth sucked on my hardened nipple as his hips rolled forcefully between my thighs, building me higher and higher.
I was going to come crashing down. And it was going to be earth-shattering.
