She flinched like he’d touched a bruise. “You really think that little of me?”
“No.” The word came hard. “I think the world of you. That’s the problem.”
Something inside her stuttered. She pushed to her feet and paced the tiny room, tiny strides because it was a tiny room and her feelings were too big. “You make me feel like I’m not enough,” she said, not looking at him. “Like I’m standing here practically begging and you’re holding back like I’m a temptation you can’t trust yourself with.”
He rose too, a shadow thrown larger by firelight. “You think you’re not enough? Elena, you’re too much. You burn too bright, and I—” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, eyes pained. “I’m terrified I’ll consume it all and there’ll be nothing left of you.”
She stopped, turned, stared. The room hummed. “So you’d rather starve us both?”
A heartbeat. Two. Then she moved.
She closed the distance, fisted his shirt, and kissed him. Not soft. Not sweet. Hungry and furious and honest. She bit his lower lip and he growled into her mouth, hands landing on her hips like a verdict.
In a blur he lifted her and walked towards the bed, laying her back on the bunk, pinning her there with the hard, delicious weight of his body. His mouth took hers—deeper, hotter—until her thoughts broke apart like cracked ice flowing down a river. She arched up, meeting the solid line of his pelvis as it ground against her, heat slamming through her even under all the layers. He caught both her wrists in one hand, dragged them above her head, and pinned them there against rough wool with iron certainty.
His lips left hers, mapped the sharp edge of her jaw, found the soft place beneath her ear. She gasped, head tilting back on instinct.
“Scott…” It slipped out of her like a secret. Like prayer.
His teeth closed on her throat—not enough to break skin, enough to hold. To tell her body, stay. A sound vibrated out of her, low and raw, and she arched so hard the bunk creaked. The hand that held her wrists tightened; the other skimmed her waist, possessive as a promise.
He trembled against her. His breath came harsh and hot at her ear. He was a thread away from giving up restraint completely—and she could feel it; God, she could feel it.
“Don’t stop” she breathed.
He lifted his head, eyes blown wide, jaw shaking with the effort it took not to devour. For a suspended second, everything balanced: heat, trust, the bright edge of surrender.
Then, at the last possible instant, he tore himself away. Rolled to the side like it hurt. He lay there, chest heaving, forearm over his eyes.
“If I keep going,” he rasped, voice wrecked, “I won’t stop.”
She turned her head, lips swollen, breath unsteady. “Then don’t.”
He dragged the forearm away, met her eyes, and made himself speak like a man stepping into freezing water. “What I want with you isn’t just more.” His voice was raw, honest. “I want to hold you so completely your bones remember it. Tie you so you can’t run—so your body finally learns what your mind won’t believe: that I don’t leave.” He swallowed, the confession scraping. “But I only want that when you want it—when you trust me to keep you safe inside it. Not like this. Not because we’re both on fire.”
Hope you all enjoyed it 😊