Chapter 127
ISABELLA
Levi exhaled—loud, ragged—and I did too. With that breath, I released more than just air. I exhaled the fear I hadn’t admitted, the wanton thoughts I had tried to silence, the tremble of desire curled tight in my throat. And somehow, his warmth met mine. It melted into me, spread through me—slow and dangerous, despite the cold night.
With his other hand, Levi reached up and brushed back my hair—slowly, deliberately—like he was peeling away the years we’d lost. One by one, the pins loosened and fell. I felt them drop uselessly to the dirt beneath us, forgotten and irrelevant. My knees stayed pressed into the cold earth, unbothered by the forest debris and broken twigs. I knelt—still, wanting, breaking.
Then he took my hair in his hand. A full fist. And pulled.
The jolt was sharp. Electric. A starburst of pain that shouldn’t have been sweet—but was. I gasped. My knees weakened beneath me, but I didn’t try to pull away. The pleasure came with it—dark, pulsing, illicit—keeping me exactly where he wanted me. Where I wanted to be.
I didn’t know what he was going to do. Maybe shove himself into my mouth, make me take him like I once did—when the world was still new and the power between us was still quiet. That would’ve been my best guess.
But instead… he just caressed my lips.
Soft. So soft I could scream.
“I know you’re hiding something from me,” he said.
His voice wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even angry. It was worse—low and steady, soaked in something darker. Something more dangerous than rage: curiosity touched with possession and a deep, aching yearning.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn’t stop the panic from mixing with the arousal. What did he know? How much? Had his father somehow gotten through to him without me knowing? Or was he starting to remember?
He lifted me with the hand still knotted in my hair until I was looking straight into his eyes. My knees turned to jelly, barely supporting me as his breath grazed my cheek, his gaze holding me still. He looked at me like a predator studying its prey—one he’d spent years hunting, and had finally caught. And I felt like one.
“What are you hiding?” he whispered.
I shook my head, and my voice broke as tears filled my eyes. “No… nothing,” I stammered, barely able to form the lie.
For a second, I was back in his office, years ago. Back in that world where he was the boss and I was the horny intern who flinched when spoken to too harshly. Back under him. And yet… still under him.
His nose brushed my throat as he leaned in.
“I remember your scent,” he breathed, inhaling deeply—like he could dig the memory of me out from beneath his skin. “I remember it.”
My breath caught. I could feel it. That familiar heat building low in my belly, spreading between my thighs—the wet, aching want that had always come for him. Only him.
“I remember your touch,” he murmured, softer now. He took my hand in his and brought it to his chest, pressing it there. I could feel the heartbeat beneath his skin—fast, erratic—and he moved my hand slowly over it. “I remember how you made this beat.”
I didn’t mean to tremble. But I did.
His arms came around me then, wrapping tight, and he pulled me against him—not just against, but into him. Our bodies folded into one another with the kind of ease that only comes from history. From knowing. There was no space left between us. No question. No room to run.
“I remember how you taste,” he said.
And then his tongue—just the tip—brushed across my lower lip.
I gasped. My eyes fluttered closed. My mouth parted in soft, aching invitation. But he didn’t kiss me.
He didn’t have to. The absence of it was worse.
“I remember your moan,” he whispered—and his hand landed on my ass with a sharp, perfect strike. I cried out, helpless, caught between shock and memory and pleasure so fierce it blurred.
“Christ…” I breathed, my voice barely holding together. My heart was racing. Everything inside me was racing.
The wild around us stilled, like it was watching. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I could hear the water in the river beyond the trees, the soft rustle of grass beneath the wind, the night folding in around us like a secret we couldn’t keep.
“I want to remember everything,” he said.
His voice cracked—just a little. And that crack? It shattered something inside me.
“What it felt like to be inside you. Not just your body—everything. What it meant.”
His hand cradled the back of my neck now, his fingers gentle, reverent—like I was something fragile and too wanted.
“Tell me,” he said, his forehead resting against mine. His voice was thick now, full of something too raw to name. “Who were you to me, Isabella? Why do you haunt my dreams? Why do I wake up with your name in my mouth and the weight of you on my chest?”
His breath hitched. So did mine.
“Why,” he whispered, voice trembling, “does it feel like you own me? Like you’re driving me out of my fucking mind?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even blink.
Because I did own him. And he—God help me—owned me too.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
