Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ava’s POV

“It was cool,” I said.

The words came out softer than I intended. Corren’s eyes remained on me through the rearview mirror for a moment longer before he looked back at the road. He did not ask further questions. The silence that followed was heavy but not empty; it carried the weight of everything he had not yet decided to say. I sat with my bag on my lap, the navy dress still neat from the day, and tried not to think about the young man in the cafeteria or the way my pulse had reacted to ordinary attention. The closer the car drew to the estate, the more those thoughts were replaced by the familiar tension that always arrived when Corren’s presence filled the space around me.

The gates opened. The car moved up the long drive and stopped at the front entrance. Corren stepped out first, then came around and opened my door himself. His hand settled at the small of my back as he guided me inside—not roughly, but with the same quiet ownership he always used. The staff remained invisible. The house felt still, as if it had been waiting for his return.

He did not take me to the study.

He took me upstairs to his room.

The door closed behind us with a solid, private sound. For a moment he only looked at me, eyes moving over my face, my throat, the line of the dress he had chosen. Then he stepped closer and began to check me carefully, almost methodically. His hands brushed my shoulders, smoothed down my arms, then rose again to the neckline of the dress. He eased the fabric aside just enough to look at my breasts, the same way someone might inspect what already belonged to them. The cool air touched my skin. My breath caught. He did not speak. He simply looked, thumbs brushing once across the soft curves he had exposed, before he pushed me closer to him.

The first kiss was slow.

His mouth met mine with controlled heat, lips parting mine without hurry, tongue sliding against my own until my knees felt less reliable. I made a small sound against him and his hand tightened at my waist. He broke the kiss only long enough to turn his attention to the side of my neck, mouth open and warm, kissing and lightly sucking the sensitive skin there until a soft moan left me. The sound seemed to please him. He did it again, slower, while one hand remained splayed against my lower back, holding me firmly against the hard line of his body.

Then he stood fully upright and lifted me.

The ease of it startled a fresh sound from my throat. He carried me as if I weighed nothing, one arm under my thighs, the other supporting my back, my body held close against his chest. I looped an arm around his neck for balance, and the movement brought my other hand between us. My fingers found the hard shape of him through his trousers. He was already thick, fully hard. A low breath left him when I pressed my palm against it, but he did not stop walking.

He looked down at me, eyes dark.

“Do you want more?”

I smiled, the answer already alive in my body. “Yes.”

Still carrying me, he adjusted his hold, freed himself with a brief, practiced motion, and then I felt the thick head of his cock press against the wetness that had already gathered between my legs. He pushed inside me in a slow, continuous stroke while I remained in his arms. The stretch forced a broken groan from my mouth. He held me there for a moment, fully seated, breathing against my temple, before he began to move—lifting me slightly and bringing me back down, using the strength of his arms to push me back and front along his length. Each movement sank him deep. Each movement dragged another sound from me. My fingers dug into his shoulder. The position left me completely open to him, unable to do anything but take what he gave.

He carried me like that to the bed and only then lowered me onto the mattress, following me down without fully withdrawing. The moment my back met the sheets he settled over me and continued—deeper now, steadier, the wet sound of his cock moving inside me filling the quiet room. One of his hands pinned my wrist lightly above my head. The other gripped my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted me. I moaned without trying to stop the sounds. The heat built fast, sharpened by the entire day of tension and the way he had claimed me the moment we returned. When I came it was with my face turned into his neck, thighs shaking around his hips, the pleasure pulling a helpless cry from my throat. He followed soon after, thrusting deep and holding there as he finished with a low, rough sound against my skin.

For a while neither of us moved.

Eventually he eased out of me and rolled onto his back. I lay beside him, breathing hard, the navy dress bunched around my waist, my body still pulsing with the aftershocks. He did not speak immediately. When he did, it was only to tell me to clean up and go to my own room. The instruction was quiet, final. I obeyed.

Later that evening I walked the quiet corridor back to the west wing on unsteady legs. My room felt cooler and more distant after the heat of his. I showered, changed into a soft nightdress, and sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hands. The day replayed itself in fragments—the school, the cafeteria, the young man’s easy attention, the drive home, Corren’s mouth on my neck, the way he had carried me and fucked me as if the hours apart had only sharpened his claim.

I opened the messaging app and typed a single update to Maya, the only ordinary thread I still had.

I have started school and it is one of the biggest schools in the state.

She replied to me very quickly, telling me that she was also attending the school.