His hands found her waist, pulling her against him with an urgency that matched the racing of his heart. Callum’s lips devoured hers, a hunger breaking free after years of starvation. He’d imagined this moment countless times—dreamed of it, ached for it—but reality eclipsed fantasy in ways he couldn’t have predicted. The soft gasp that escaped her as he backed her against the wall sent lightning through his veins.

Five years. Five fucking years wasted on noble intentions and misplaced protection.

He lifted her, hands sliding beneath her thighs as her legs wrapped around his waist. The weight of her, the heat of her body against his, felt like coming home after a lifetime of exile.

“Lira,” he breathed against her lips, reluctantly breaking the kiss to look at her. He needed to see her face, needed to know that this was real—she was real—and not another torturous dream he’d wake from alone and aching. “Are you sure?”

Her eyes met his, pupils dilated with desire, her lips swollen. The sight of her like this—disheveled, wanting, looking at him with such raw need—made his knees weak.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered, her fingers working frantically at the buttons of his shirt, impatient, demanding.

He captured her mouth again, unable to resist the pull of her any longer. His shirt fell open under her touch, her fingers trailing fire across his chest, exploring each ridge and plane of muscle as if committing him to memory.

Callum carried her toward the bedroom, unwilling to separate from her even for the short distance. The apartment blurred around them—the luxurious furnishings, the security screens, the evidence of his double life—none of it mattering now. Only this moment, only Lira mattered.

The bedroom door hit the wall with a bang as he kicked it open, not caring about the mark it would leave. The last rays of sunset filtered through the windows, bathing the room in golden light that caught in her hair, illuminating it like a crown of fire. He laid her gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in the sight of her sprawled across his sheets, her hair fanning out around her like a dark flame against the fabric. “So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.”

Callum’s hands stilled on her hips. The trust in her gaze made something twist inside him. After everything—the secrets, the distance, the years of half-truths—she still looked at him like he was worthy of her. Like he was something more than the blood on his hands and the lies on his tongue.

“What is it?” she asked, pushing herself up on her elbows. Concern had begun to replace desire in her expression, and he couldn’t bear it.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted, the words scraping his throat raw. “Afraid that once I have you again, I’ll never be able to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” she answered simply and the last of his restraint shattered.

Callum surged forward, her mouth clashing with his as he pressed her back into the mattress. His hips ground into hers instinctively as he groaned against her mouth.

The dress she wore became an enemy, a barrier between him and what he craved. His fingers found the zipper at her back, dragging it down with a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. The fabric parted beneath his touch, revealing inches of soft skin that he immediately claimed with his mouth.

He pressed his lips to each new expanse exposed—the soft curve of her stomach, the delicate arch of her ribs, the swell of her breasts.

When he finally pulled the garment over her head, his breath caught in his throat. The fading light cast shadows across her body, highlighting every curve, every dip and hollow. His fingertips traced the edge of her bra, feeling her shiver beneath his touch.

“I’ve dreamed of this so many times,” he confessed, his voice rough with desire as he unhooked her bra with ease, sliding it down her arms. “But nothing I imagined comes close to how perfect you are.”

Her breasts spilled free, and Callum couldn’t resist lowering his head to taste her, his tongue circling one nipple while his fingers teased the other. The sound she made—half gasp, half moan—sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock, already hard and straining against his pants.

“Callum,” she breathed, her back arching, pressing herself more firmly against his mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her as if afraid he might stop. “God, that feels so good.”

He switched his attention to her other breast, lavishing it with the same care, drawing another breathless moan from her lips. His free hand slid down her stomach to the waistband of her underwear and slowly dragged them down.

“I want to worship every inch of you,” he murmured against her skin, pressing kisses along the valley between her breasts, down her sternum, across her stomach. “I want to learn every sound you make when I touch you here—” His fingers dipped between her thighs, finding her already wet. “—and here.”

Lira gasped as his fingers slid through her folds, circling her clit with teasing pressure. “Please,” she whispered, her hips lifting to meet his touch. “I need you.”

He slid her underwear the rest of the way down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers as he tossed it aside. She was completely bare before him, a feast for his senses that he intended to savor.

“You’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice bordering on a moan as his fingers explored her, finding the places that made her breath catch, that made her tremble. “Tell me, my love, how many times do you want to come?”

Lira gasped at the question, but didn’t answer. He pressed harder on her clit, and a deep moan rolled from her lungs.

“I want you to tell me,” he breathed, bringing his lips to her ear and nipping at her lobe.

“Three,” she forced out, her voice thin and breathy.

Callum chuckled then pushed a finger inside her. “Only three? We can do better than that.”

“Oh God.” Her moan was ragged as it fell from her lips. “F-five,” she gasped, greedily pushing her hips toward his hand.

Callum grinned against her neck at the sound of her pleasure, dragging his lips to hers and kissing her deep and hungry before pulling away. He lowered himself between her thighs, pressing kisses to the soft skin of her inner legs, slowly working his way higher. When his mouth finally found her center, the taste of her exploded across his tongue and he groaned against her, the vibration making her gasp and buck against his mouth.

Callum took his time, licking and sucking, his tongue tracing patterns that had her writhing beneath him as her hands fisted in the sheets. He slid another finger inside her, curling them to hit the spot that made her cry out his name.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, watching her face as pleasure transformed her features. “I’m going to worship you like you deserve.”

Her eyes locked with his, dark with desire, her lips parted as her breathing grew more ragged. He could feel her tightening around his fingers, so close to the edge. He increased the pressure of his tongue against her clit, his fingers moving in rhythm inside her.

“Callum.” His name was a cry torn from her throat as she shattered, her body arching off the bed, her walls clenching around his fingers. He didn’t stop, working her through the waves of her orgasm until she collapsed back onto the mattress, trembling and breathless.

His lips did not leave her.

They stayed, tasting every bit of her essence, refusing to drag himself away. He was going to make this last, to make up for every year he had gone without the taste of her on his tongue. Her heels dug into his back as her thighs trembled around his head. Each gasp and moan she made drove him wild, feeding a primal need to pleasure her until she couldn't remember her own name.