Page 19 of Razor
I couldn't look away as his chest was revealed—olive skin marked with intricate tattoos that flowed across his muscles.Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as they traced the lines of ink, feeling the warmth of him beneath my touch.
"Your turn," he whispered, guiding my hand to the remaining buttons of his shirt.
My fingers fumbled, clumsy with nerves, but he didn't rush me.When the shirt finally joined the growing pile of clothing, I placed my palms against his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my touch.
A flash of memory intruded—Tyler, impatient with my hesitation, roughly grabbing my wrists, forcing my hands where he wanted them.I flinched involuntarily.
Razor noticed.Of course he did.His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb gently stroking my skin."Stay with me," he murmured."Just us here.No ghosts allowed."
I nodded, grateful for his understanding without explanation.His lips found mine, soft at first, a question rather than a demand.I answered by leaning into him, my body making a decision my mind was still catching up to.
The kiss deepened slowly, like sinking into warm water.His hands remained gentle on my waist, holding but not constraining, waiting for mine to explore before he moved his own.I found myself growing bolder, fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the texture of scars I didn't yet know the stories behind.
When we finally made it to the bed, Razor laid me down with a reverence that caught in my throat.He moved above me, his weight supported on his forearms, careful not to crush me beneath him.
"Is this okay?"he asked, his voice rough with restraint.
Tyler had never asked.Had never cared if it was okay.
"Yes," I whispered, pulling him closer.
What followed was nothing like what I'd known before.Where Tyler had been rough and demanding, Razor was attentive and responsive.He seemed to read my body, finding places I didn't know could feel pleasure, watching my reactions to guide his touch.When his lips traced a path down my neck, across my collarbone, I arched toward him instinctively.
"Tell me what you like," he murmured against my skin."Show me."
The request startled me.Tyler had never cared what I liked.Had mocked me for having preferences at all.
"I don't...I'm not sure..."I admitted, shame heating my cheeks.
Understanding flickered in Razor's eyes."Then we'll figure it out together."
His hands and mouth continued their exploration, patient and thorough, and soon I found myself responding in ways I never had before.My hands clutched at his shoulders, my body moving beneath his, seeking more of his touch.Sounds escaped me that I didn't recognize—small gasps and moans that seemed to encourage him.
The scent of his cologne mixed with the clean cotton of hotel sheets and the faint sweetness of champagne still on our breath.Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, then faded, a reminder of the world beyond our temporary sanctuary.But here, in this bed, with this man, I found myself forgetting to be afraid.
"Ophelia," he breathed against my skin, my name a prayer on his lips.
The sound of it unraveled the tight knot in my chest.I whispered his name in return—not Razor, but "Cruz," his real name, the one on our marriage certificate.The air between us turned heavier after that, intimacy settling into a deeper place neither of us could pretend away.
His hands grew more urgent, and mine matched their rhythm.The lingering taste of champagne on his tongue mingled with mine as our kisses deepened.When he finally joined his body with mine, it wasn't the intrusion I'd braced for, but a completion I hadn't known I was seeking.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
I opened eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed, finding his gaze steady on mine.He held me there, connected, as our bodies moved together.No hiding, no pretending.Just us, raw and real in the shifting casino lights.
Tension gathered low in my body, winding tighter with each movement until I could barely breathe through it.I recognized the feeling only distantly—real pleasure, sharp and consuming, nothing like the hollow encounters I'd endured with Tyler.But this was stronger, deeper, pulling me toward some edge I both feared and craved.
"Let go," Razor urged, his voice strained with his own control."I've got you.Let go."
And I did.The tension shattered, pleasure cascading through me in waves that left me gasping, clinging to him as the only solid thing in a world suddenly fluid and bright.His own release followed, my name on his lips again as his body tensed above mine.
After, he didn't immediately roll away as Tyler always had.Instead, Razor gathered me against him, my head finding a place on his chest, his heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my ear.His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, touch now soothing rather than arousing.
"You okay?"he asked quietly.
The question was simple, but weighted with understanding of all I'd been through, all the ways intimacy had been weaponized against me before.
"Yes," I answered, surprising myself with how true it was."I'm okay."
