Betrayed By One. Bound To Three-Chapter 38: I Trust You.

Third Person Narrative:

Edris did not rush her.

At least, he tried not to.

Even as the heat between them thickened and turned heavy in the air, he held himself back. His hands moved slowly over her skin, as if memorizing it again. His mouth traced the curve of her throat, the hollow beneath her ear, the place where her breath caught.

But restraint was becoming harder.

Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently, and something inside him tightened. She arched into him without hesitation, her body open and willing in a way that made his chest burn.

With Silas, she had endured.

With him, she leaned closer.

That thought nearly broke his composure.

He lifted his head and looked at her. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were darker, warmer. There was no calculation in them.

Just want.

"You’re sure," he murmured again, though his voice was already rough.

Instead of answering, she pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him.

That was when he felt his control slip.

He rolled them so she was beneath him, his weight settling between her thighs. His hands slid under the thin fabric she wore, pushing it up slowly, but his breathing was no longer steady. His chest rose and fell faster now.

When he finally pulled the fabric over her head and let it fall away, he did not look away.

He swallowed.

"You drive me mad," he said quietly.

She reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head with far less patience than he had shown her. Her palms pressed against his chest, sliding downward, exploring him with confidence.

He caught her wrists gently and pinned them above her head for a second.

Not to restrain her.

To steady himself.

Her breath hitched.

That sound did something dangerous to him.

He lowered his mouth to hers again, but this time the kiss was deeper. Hungrier. His control frayed with every soft sound she made against his lips.

His hand slid down her side, over her hip, then lower. When she gasped, her back arching instinctively, he closed his eyes for a brief second.

He was losing himself.

He shifted, positioning himself between her thighs, and the look on her face when she opened for him nearly undid him completely. There was no doubt in her. No fear.

Only trust.

He entered her slowly at first, watching her face the entire time. Her mouth parted. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

He stopped halfway, breathing hard.

"Too much?" he asked.

She shook her head, pulling him closer.

That was the last piece of restraint he had left.

He pushed deeper, a low sound escaping him that he did not bother to silence. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him in fully, and the feeling of her surrounding him made his vision blur for a moment.

He began to move.

At first it was steady. Controlled.

But she met every movement with her own.

Her hips lifted. Her nails dragged down his back. She whispered his name in a way that did not sound composed or careful.

It sounded desperate.

That word broke him.

His pace changed. His thrusts grew stronger, less measured. His forehead dropped to her shoulder as he breathed against her skin. He kissed down her collarbone, then bit lightly without thinking.

She made a sharp sound, half surprise, half pleasure, and tightened around him.

"Selena," he said, but it came out strained.

She pulled at his hair again, harder this time. Her legs tightened around him as if she never intended to let him go.

He lifted his head and looked at her.

There was no softness left in his eyes now.

Only hunger.

He caught her thigh and pushed it higher over his hip, driving into her with a force that made the bed shift beneath them. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, no longer quiet or careful.

He had meant to take his time.

He had meant to savor her.

Instead, he was chasing the feeling of her as if he had been starved.

His grip on her hips tightened. His movements lost their careful rhythm. He buried his face against her neck and inhaled deeply, replacing every trace of Silas with himself.

"You’re mine," he breathed before he could stop himself.

The words were not a command.

They were a plea.

Her answer was immediate. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down until there was no space between them.

"Yes," she whispered against his ear.

That word shattered what little restraint he had left.

He moved harder now, faster, driven by something deeper than jealousy and more powerful than reason. His hand slid up her body, cupping her face as he kissed her fiercely. His other arm held her tight against him, almost as if he feared she might disappear.

Her breathing became uneven. Her body trembled beneath him. She met him with equal urgency, lifting her hips again and again, urging him not to slow.

He would not.

He felt her tightening around him, her nails digging into his skin, her voice breaking as she cried out. The sound went straight through him.

When she came undone, it was not quiet.

Her body arched sharply. Her head fell back. His name left her lips in a way that felt like surrender and choice all at once.

The sight of it pushed him over the edge.

His movements grew erratic for a moment, almost desperate, and then he followed her, his body tensing hard against hers. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, holding her tightly as he found his release, his breath harsh and unsteady.

For several seconds, he did not move.

He could not.

He was still shaking slightly when he finally lifted his head.

She was watching him.

Not with fear.

With something softer.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering against her cheek.

"I lost control," he admitted quietly.

"I noticed," she replied, her voice warm.

There was no accusation in it.

Only satisfaction.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No. I enjoyed it" she replied with a tired smile.

He rolled onto his side, pulling her against his chest again. This time his hold was not protective.

It was claiming.

His breathing slowly steadied, but his hand continued to move along her back as if he needed to feel that she was still there.

After a while, he spoke, his voice calmer now.

"Is he coming back tonight?"

"No," she said. "He thinks he got what he wanted."

Edris’s arm tightened slightly.

"He didn’t," he said.

"No," she agreed. "He didn’t."

Silence settled around them.

His fingers traced slow circles along her spine.

"I don’t like him near you," he admitted.

"I know."

He pressed a kiss to her hair.

"But I trust you."

She smiled faintly and pressed closer.

"I know."

Outside the chamber, the palace remained quiet.

Inside, something had shifted.

Silas believed he had marked his place.

But as Edris held her close, her scent wrapped around him and his around her, it was clear that the night had not belonged to Silas at all.

And this time, Edris had not held back.