10

Lilly’s POV

A low moan escapes me as my eyes flutter open. Sparks trail across my chest—Drake’s fingers, warm and slow, tracing down to my stomach. Every inch he touches leaves behind a memory.

I smile, searching for his face. “Morning,” I croak, licking my dry lips.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss beneath my ear. The heat of his breath sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

Layla purrs in the back of my mind, savoring the way his lips graze my skin. His hand slips beneath my panties, and his mouth starts to work my neck with skillful, familiar pressure.

“Mmmmmm…” I moan, his touch waking every nerve in my body.

His fingers dip lower, drawing soft circles that make my breath hitch. His lips move slowly down my throat, his stubble scraping gently against my skin. Every touch is deliberate. He’s not just touching me—he’s reminding me I’m alive. We both are.

“Drake,” I whisper, my fingers curling into the back of his shirt.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against my collarbone, his voice thick with emotion. “Scared I wouldn’t get back to you.”

I pull his face up to mine and kiss him—deep and slow. There’s no rush. Just us, breathing each other in like we’ve been starved. He kisses me back with desperation and relief, like he needs this to ground him.

Clothes shift and fall away, fabric peeling from skin until nothing is between us but the heat of our bodies. He takes his time exploring every inch of me, trailing kisses over my chest, my stomach, his hands mapping curves he already knows by heart. He touches me like I’m made of glass and wildfire all at once—fragile and dangerous.

“You feel real,” he says, voice rough against my skin. “Warm. Whole. Mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him down into me.

When he enters me, it’s not urgent—it’s reverent. A slow, grounding rhythm that connects every piece of me back together. I arch into him, clutching his shoulders, his name falling from my lips in a whisper that turns into a moan.

Every movement is a promise. Every kiss on my skin, a thank you. His forehead rests against mine as we move together, our breaths syncing, the bond between us pulsing with each heartbeat.

“I love you,” he groans, gripping my hips like he can’t bear to let go.

“I love you more,” I whisper, tears pricking the corners of my eyes from how safe this feels.

He lifts my hips, deepening the angle, stealing my breath as the pleasure builds—hot and slow and overwhelming. My fingers tangle in his hair as I cling to him, gasping his name. He groans in response, his pace quickening as we both climb higher.

When we finally fall over the edge, it’s together—shaking, breathless, completely unraveled in each other’s arms.

He doesn’t move right away. He just holds me. His body draped over mine, hearts pounding in unison.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” I whisper, tracing circles on his back.

He presses a kiss to my neck. “Never again.”