parts and rocking hips, of moans and groans and slippery flesh.
I fucking loved it.
I loved her.
My tongue plunged into her mouth, and her body bowed beneath mine. “Oh, God. Sully.” She gave in to her orgasm, kissing me back with primal possession and greedy tongue, all while her pussy milked my cock with intense waves of release.
I went with her.
I shuddered each time her climax fisted me.
I growled when my own ending rushed from my body in spurts of goddamn rapture. My body jerked with each pulse. I bit her throat as it grew far too intense. I crushed her and worshipped her and relished in the bruises I shadowed her with as they marked her as mine forever.
Our hearts thundered to the same erratic beat as desire hammered us into pieces.
With a final cry, she went lax beneath me, panting with exertion. I let my weight go, blanketing her, loving the heat of her, the wetness, the knowledge we’d done something that couldn’t be undone.
Our shared release left us limp and loose. Her hair looked like a million serpents covering the floor around us, and her hands stroked my spine as I returned to earth. Giving me gentle after I’d given her rough.
I nuzzled into her neck with overwhelming ecstasy.
That was what she was.
No, not just ecstasy.
She was harmony.
She brought harmony to my out-of-sync soul.
Peace.
She was peace.
And I was the luckiest fucking bastard alive.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” I padded beside Sully, bare feet in warm sand, my cotton dress thrown back over my well-fucked body, the remains of our lovemaking trickling down my leg.
My skin begged for the ocean.
Afternoon had replaced the morning, and the humidity level had exceeded comfortable. The sun managed to sear my skin even with the canopy of palm trees above us and the overall brightness of the island promised a scorcher of a day.
The only place to survive the intense heat would be to wallow in the sea, occasionally returning to shore for an ice-cold glass of fresh lychee juice.
I tugged Sully’s hand that’d permanently snagged mine. Our fingers entwined and palms glued together, neither of us caring that a slick of sweat blended us together. “Do you want to swim? I’m hot.”
He chuckled, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles, never breaking his pace. His thick five o’clock shadow tickled my skin while his lips were so soft. “You’ve read my mind.”
I frowned, doing my best not to be distracted by how much I still wanted him. How much I danced on air. How crazy all of this was.
What he’d done in Euphoria was unforgivable.
But what he’d said and done after was unbelievable.
Both incidents cancelled each other out. Hate plaiting with love, proving that both had to survive to make a relationship real. To ensure trust could blossom because I’d seen his bad parts, I’d endured his temper, cruelty, and darkness. His flaws were visible to me, and that allowed my heart to make an informed decision.
He wasn’t perfect.
But neither am I.
Our beginning wasn’t a cutesy story we could share over dinner because it began in the blackness where Sully had dwelled for so long. However, I wouldn’t trade it for the world because meeting him this way was ten times better than meeting someone at a bar or on a train or at a friend’s barbecue, only seeing what they wanted me to see. Asking me to base my choice on their rendition of who they are…not the nucleus of their truth.
There were many things about Sully I might never accept. I didn’t know how I felt living in paradise, all while he asked traffickers to deliver more women like me to his door. I couldn’t be selfish and ignore others’ plights, just because my own had taken a turn for the better.
But I also didn’t want to be a martyr and throw away what I’d found.
I wanted to keep him and save him.
Save them.
Save myself.
Because, as incredible as this revelation was—as much as my heart had sprouted little parrot wings and hovered with a mass of hummingbirds in my chest, I was still his prisoner. I was still his ward with no freedom to contact my family or go home.
Not that I want to go home…yet.
Leaving now would be the worst possible thing. This was too new. Too fragile. We’d fought against the inevitability of falling in love, but our journey wasn’t over.
I doubted any relationship ever reached a point where either party didn’t stop fighting to