This chapter contains explicit language, mature themes, and emotionally intense scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
…
For a heartbeat, Cyrus forgot how to breathe. Isabella moved against him, her warmth melting through every defense he'd spent years building. His hands hesitated at first—trembling, uncertain—then finally settled at her waist. She was real. This was happening.
Every muscle in his body went taut. He had dreamed of this—her—in the quiet hours of the night when he swore he'd never give in. He had promised himself he'd protect her, not touch her. But now she was here, lips on his, heartbeat against his chest, and all the distance he'd kept felt like punishment.
He pulled her closer, fingers spreading across her back as if to anchor himself. She whispered his name—once, softly—and it undid him. The sound carried through him like a prayer, leaving him raw and wordless.
When their lips parted, he pressed his forehead to hers, voice rough with disbelief.
