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He finally kissed her.
And the world didn't stop — it burned.
Ava felt it the moment their lips met. The heat. The danger. The unspoken promise that nothing would be the same after this. His mouth was warm, devastating, and unbearably gentle — like he'd been starving for her but was still terrified to break her.
She didn't realize she was shaking until Elias pulled back just a fraction, his breath mingling with hers, their foreheads touching.
"Breathe," he whispered. "Ava, breathe."
But she couldn't. Not properly. Her lungs ached, her thoughts spun. Her body screamed yes while her soul trembled on the edge of something she couldn't name.
She had been kissed before.
But not like this.
Not like it meant something.
Not like it undid her.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him close, needing to feel something solid as the ground vanished beneath her.
His eyes searched hers — not asking for permission, not asking for forgiveness — but something deeper. As if silently begging her not to run this time.
And Ava… she wanted to run. But even more than that, she wanted to stay.
She closed her eyes and kissed him again.
Slower. Deeper.
This time, it was her choice.
And Elias… he lost control.
His hands cupped her face, then tangled in her hair. His mouth moved over hers with a desperation that unraveled every knot she'd tied around her heart. He kissed her like she was oxygen, like he had waited lifetimes for the right moment to breathe her in.
Her back hit the wall. He pressed against her, one hand splayed at her waist, the other gripping the curve of her neck as if anchoring himself in her.
"I've thought about this every night," he murmured against her lips. "Every damn night, Ava. And none of those thoughts prepared me for this."
Her knees weakened. Heat coiled low in her belly. His voice was a velvet rasp, dragging over her nerves like fire over silk.
"Elias…" She wasn't sure if it was a warning or a plea.
"I know," he whispered. "You're scared."
She nodded.
"So am I."
That admission shattered something inside her.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the edge of her jaw, then her throat, pausing just above the place where her pulse thundered. "I won't hurt you. Not like he did. Never like that."
Her heart cracked at the sincerity in his voice.
But still… still the shadows of her past clung to her skin like frost. The memory of Ethane — his control, his manipulation — it haunted her. Made her question every flicker of desire, every instinct to surrender.
But Elias… he was different. He wasn't asking her to surrender. He was waiting for her to choose.
"I don't want to be possessed," she whispered. "I don't want to be someone's addiction."
Elias stilled.
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes.
"Then I'll learn to love you the right way," he said softly. "Not with obsession. But with patience. With presence. With every part of me that still knows how to love."
Ava's chest tightened, her throat aching with unshed emotion.
"I don't know if I can give you all of me yet," she admitted. "But I can give you this."
She reached for him — not just with her hands, but with something deeper. Her mouth met his again, and this time, there was no fear in it. Only need. Only hunger. Only truth.
Their kisses turned feverish. Clothes fell away piece by trembling piece, discarded like barriers neither of them wanted anymore.
Elias's lips traveled down her neck, across her collarbone. His hands were reverent, never rushed. Every touch was like a confession. Every brush of his fingers over her bare skin whispered, I see you. I want you. Only you.
When they reached the bedroom, neither remembered walking there. They were just there, breathless and undone, surrounded by dim light and the sound of the storm crashing against the windows.
She stood before him in nothing but her trembling skin.
He didn't devour her with his eyes.
He adored her.
As if she were fragile glass kissed by flame.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, brushing his knuckles down her side. "Even in your fear. Especially in your strength."
And when he finally touched her — when his hands slid over the curves of her body with trembling reverence — Ava didn't feel like an object.
She felt like a woman.
Wanted.
Seen.
Loved — even if neither of them dared say it yet.
Their bodies met in the center of the bed, a tangle of limbs, of breath, of whispered names and stifled cries. He moved inside her like a prayer — slow, aching, desperate to make her feel.
And Ava…
She did feel.
Too much.
Everything.
She gasped his name, her fingers digging into his back as her body arched toward him, chasing something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
Pleasure.
Freedom.
Trust.
When her release came, it was not a roar — it was a cry, broken and real, like the echo of something deep finally being set free.
And Elias held her through it all.
Afterward, they didn't speak.
Not right away.
He tucked her close, her head resting against his chest as his heartbeat slowed beneath her ear. His fingers drew soft circles over her spine, grounding her even as her world spun.
In the silence, something shifted.
Something healed.
Ava didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
Didn't know how to navigate the flame still burning low between them.
But for the first time in a long time…
She didn't feel cold.
And that was enough.
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