Page 134 of Break Me

He doesn't rush. Every movement is unhurried, deliberate, as though he's committing each moment to memory. His fingers find the hem of my shirt, then still.

His eyes lift to mine.

I reach up and cradle his face between my hands. "I'm still me," I whisper. "I'm still here."

His eyes close for the briefest moment, leaning into my touch before he opens them again.

Something in him settles, and he eases my shirt over my head. His gaze moves over me slowly, not with hunger but with something deeper and quieter that makes my chest ache more than anything the doctors said today.

My hands slide under the hem of his shirt and push it up. slowly, palms dragging against warm skin, feeling the shift of muscle underneath. Sam reaches back and pulls it off in one motion, tossing it onto the floor.

My hands slide slowly up his body, feeling the familiar strength beneath my fingertips until they come to rest against his chest.

His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm.

Steadier than mine.

When I look up, his eyes are already on me. His jaw is tight, his expression caught somewhere between love and heartbreak.

I lean forward and press a kiss to the center of his chest.

"Raven."

It's only my name, but it holds everything he can't bring himself to say.

I smile against his skin, then shift slightly and press another kiss over his heart, letting my lips linger there. It beats strong and sure beneath them.

His fingers slip into my hair, gentle at first before tightening just enough to coax me back to him.

"Come here," he says, his voice low, the words almost disappearing between us.

Our mouths meet, and the rest of the world falls away.

Sam kisses me the way he loves me—with quiet certainty, never rushed, never careless. His hand cups the back of my neck while the other settles against my waist, holding me close without asking for anything except this moment.

When he finally draws back, his forehead rests against mine. His eyes are darker than usual, but there's no distance in them now. Only the man I've loved all along, stripped of every wall he carries for everyone else.

No vice president.

No protector.

Just Samuel.

He eases me onto my back, never breaking our gaze. His hand drifts from my shoulder to my arm, then along my side until it settles lightly at my waist. Every touch is unhurried, filled with a quiet tenderness that says more than words ever could. He watches my face while he does it.

Every shift in my breathing.

Every place my body answers him.

His mouth follows the path where his hands have been. My jaw. My throat. The curve of my shoulder. Then lower.

When his mouth reaches my stomach, my breath leaves me in a rush. I feel him smile against my skin.

“Sam.”

“I know,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t stop.

By the time he works his way back up my body, I’m trembling. He kisses me slow and deep as his hand slides between us. I gasp into his mouth, my fingers curling hard into his shoulder.