The room was silent except for her soft, steady breathing. She lay curled beside him, her skin marked with the traces of his hands and mouth, her hair spilling over the pillow in disarray. Four in the morning and she was finally still. After he'd pushed her past the point where she could resist, past the point where she could even speak.
Theo's gaze lingered on her face, unreadable in the dim light.
"I want to be so deep in your life you can't pull me out," he murmured against her skin. "To take root… to grow into something you can never let go of." The words weren't meant for her, they were a promise to himself. If she carried something of him, if he wove himself so deep into her that she could never cut him out, then no reason, no lie could make her walk away.
His fingers brushed over her stomach, a fleeting, almost unconscious touch, before he pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders.
