"I'm never letting you go."
Hunter's voice was a growl in her ear, low and rough like gravel soaked in heat. His arms wrapped around her tightly under the blanket of stars, his body hard and trembling with everything he hadn't said. Everything he hadn't done.
Eden didn't answer with words.
She didn't have to.
Her hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers sinking into his hair as she pulled his mouth down to hers. This kiss wasn't like before — not desperate, not rushed. It was intentional. A promise made in the silence between heartbeats.
Hunter's hands gripped her waist. Then lower. Then tighter.
"You're shaking," he whispered against her lips.
"I'm not scared," she breathed.
"I am."
She blinked.
"Of what?"
His eyes were wild.
"Of how much I want you. Of what I'll do to keep you. You don't know what you've done to me, Eden."
"Then show me."
That broke him.
Hunter's hand grabbed hers, lacing their fingers tightly as he led her off the school grounds and into his car. The drive to his place was fast, silent, and electric. Every glance exchanged between them made the air heavier.
By the time they reached his room, Eden's breathing was uneven.
He closed the door behind them — locked it — and leaned against it for a second, watching her.
"You can still stop this," he said. "Just say the word."
She stepped forward, slowly.
"I won't."
"Why not?"
"Because last night… I gave you my body."
Her hands reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head with a slow, deliberate motion.
"But tonight—"
She took a step closer, bare-chested, bold.
"—I'm giving you the rest of me."
Hunter's eyes darkened to something dangerous.
He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her face, not roughly, but with so much tension it nearly vibrated in the air. His mouth crashed onto hers, tasting like fury and obsession and need.
He kissed her like he wanted to erase every memory of Liam. Every touch before him. Every doubt.
He kissed her like a man who'd been starving… and had just been given permission to feast.
Her back hit the mattress.
He followed.
His hoodie was gone.
His lips trailed from her jaw to her collarbone, down to her chest, where he paused — just staring at her like she was sacred and sinful all at once.
"You don't get to hide from me anymore," he whispered. "Not your sounds, not your moans, not your tears, not your fears. I want all of it."
She swallowed, her voice cracking.
"Take it."
He did.
Slowly. Teasingly. Possessively.
Every piece of clothing came off with meaning. Every kiss he placed felt like a brand. His hands were everywhere — mapping her, claiming her, memorizing her until she was arching and gasping and crying out his name.
But this time… he didn't stop at just touching her.
He made her feel things she didn't know her body could do. She begged. She trembled. She screamed into the sheets with his name on her lips and tears in her eyes — not from pain but from surrender.
And when he finally entered her again, it was deeper.
Slower.
Raw.
Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that didn't need instruction. His name became a mantra on her lips. Her moans fed his control and stripped it away in the same breath.
He didn't just f*ck her.
He marked her.
And when she broke when her voice cracked as she shattered beneath him, he fell with her.
They lay there, tangled, breathless.
He didn't move.
She didn't let him.
"I need you to know something," he said after minutes of silence.
"What?"
He brushed his fingers along her thigh, where a faint red imprint from his grip still glowed.
"You're not just mine tonight."
She turned her head, heart thundering.
"You're mine every night after this. Every breath. Every second."
She smiled softly, her voice sleepy and wrecked.
"You better keep me, then."
His grip tightened.
"I will."