Page 143 of Anton

“What is it?”

He goes quiet, and when he speaks, the confession rocks the very depth of me.

“You’re my first, Thora.”

“What do you mean?” I sit up, unable to comprehend what he’s saying.

He catches my foot and presses a kiss to the arch before guiding me onto my back again. Then he spreads my thighs, and the instant his tongue glides up my center, the question vanishes beneath the rush of need.

But that only lasts a second, because I need to know.

“Anton, what did you mean?” Grabbing his bicep, I wait for his answer, bracing myself up on my elbows.

He holds my stare long enough to send my heart flipping.

“I’ve never been with a woman before you.” He lowers himself over me, his large body fitting against mine. “There was no one. Not like this. Not in any way.”

My pulse stumbles. “Anton…”

Those words leave me stunned and fill me with too many emotions to name.

I cradle his face and turn him toward me. “Thank you for giving me that.”

“Are you sure you’re all right with it?”

Oh, my heart.

“Of course I am. Are you kidding?”

I kiss him once, then again, needing him to understand how much this means to me.

The rigid line of his body eases as he lowers more of his weight onto me, his thick cock pressing hard against my core. Holding my stare, he positions the crown at my entrance and pushes inside me slowly, inch by inch, until there’s no space left between us.

It feels like more than his body he’s giving me. Knowing I’m the only woman he has ever trusted this way deepens the bond between us, tying me to him in a way I know I’ll never be able to undo.

We spend the night wrapped in each other, unable to stop making love. By the time sleep claims us, I’ve lost count of how many times he’s made me come, and judging by the smug satisfaction on his face each time, he isn’t shy about letting it go to his head.

A horrid dream wakes me. I saw myself being drowned by my own mother, her face so purely evil, sweat still coats my brow. I felt my lungs burn, inhaling water as I choked on it, trying to beg her not to kill me, but she only pushed my face deeper.

Staring at the ceiling now, with Anton’s arm heavy across my stomach, I wonder what the hell it meant.

Maybe it’s because it’s as though she killed the person I was before I became Thora. Because she lied. They all did.

How do I look past my parents’ transgression? How do I look them in the face and forgive them for taking what wasn’t theirs? And if I find my aunt, what do I even tell her? That I went into the system, adopted by a good family who loved me?

I guess that’s the only answer I can give. The real one is too ugly to say out loud.

God, my head is killing me.

Needing to grab some meds, I gently lift Anton’s arm from my stomach, careful not to wake him as I shimmy out of bed. He groans, moving once, but he doesn’t open his eyes, and I freeze until his breathing evens out again.

The floor is cold beneath my feet as I tiptoe, stepping over his pants where they were thrown haphazardly last night. His phone is on the floor beside them, and I bend to pick both up. As I lift the pants, something slips from one of the pockets and flutters to the floor.

At first, I think it’s a receipt or maybe some folded-up business card, but when I pick it up, my fingers go numb.

Because it’s a photo. Of me. I don’t know where he got it or why, but it’s a shot from one of the galas my family hosted a year or so ago.

As I stare down at it, my pulse hikes up. Turning it over only makes me more uneasy as I take in a random number written on the back.