Page 498 of Coal Hearts

“Nightmare—”

“It’s Ily.” I giggled, the soft, giddy feeling of before tangled with the debilitating arousal pumping through my blood. “You know that. You know what it means. I love you—”

“Don’t,” he hissed.

“Don’t what? Say I love you?”

He groaned.

I grew drunk on his torment.

I revelled in my power.

“You’ve told me ‘I love you’, oh, I don’t know...two hundred times since you met me. Each of those three little letters. I.L—”

“Enough.” He tried to toss me off, but his touch was too careful, too kind.

My body warned that just because I couldn’t feel my bruises, they were still there...hurting.

I don’t care.

I gripped him with my thighs and pressed us tighter together.

Cock to core.

Heart to heart.

His answering growl made my hunger become starvation.

I needed him.

I needed to rock and thrust and come and detonate.

Whatever this drug was, I liked it.

I’d been afraid before.

Fearful of yearning and wanting and need.

But now...I gave myself over to it.

I quivered and craved and rocked my hips, pressing myself deeper onto Henri’s hardness.

“Fuck.” His hands clamped on the top of my thighs, stilling me. “Stop it.”

“No.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I don’t feel it.”

“I’m not doing this. Not while you’re injured—”

“You’re injured too.” I nipped at his sharp cheekbone.

He drew his head back.

He fell into silent darkness—tumbling into a place I couldn’t follow.