Page 55 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

I carefully take off her clothing, pulling it over her head and take my time now, mapping every inch of her with my hands and my mouth — , the soft gasp she lets out when I finally get her bra undone and bend to taste her properly.

"Mmmm…." Her fingers thread into my hair, holding me there. "No rush."

"Wasn't planning to."

I work lower, deliberate, savoring every shiver and every breathless sound she makes until she's bare beneath me on the narrow loft bed, moonlight striping across her skin, her chest rising and falling fast with anticipation. I settle between her thighs and look up at her — really look, memorizing the way she's looking back at me like she's finally let herself believe this is real.

"I love you," I say again, just to watch her eyes go soft.

"I love you too. Now please, Finn⁠—"

I don't make her finish the sentence. I taste her slow, deliberate, working her higher with patient, devastating care until she's gasping my name into the quiet loft, her thighs trembling against my shoulders, her whole body arching toward my mouth. When she breaks apart, it's quieter than the first time — a long, shuddering exhale instead of a cry, like something in her has finally stopped bracing for the ground to fall away.

I give myself just long enough to shed the rest of my clothes before I'm back over her, my eyes narrow into hers, the wolf close but calm now, steady instead of starving.

"I'm not holding back this time and things might …" My breath hitches, my forehead resting against hers. “...get a bit rough,”

"More sure than I've ever been about anything." She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me down. "Show me what you got, Mr Blackwater."

I thrust into her unhurried, one long, deliberate inch at a time, watching her face the entire way — the way her lips part on a soundless gasp, the way her eyes flutter shut and then open again like she doesn't want to miss a second of this. When I'm finally seated fully inside her, we both go still, just breathing, just feeling the mate bond hum between us steady and warm instead of frantic.

"Finn," she whispers, her hands framing my face. "Its going too deep…”

Her cries only make my eyes twitch, pushing me quickly to the edge. I press a slow kiss to her cheek. "It's just us."

I start the rhythm, unhurried, deep, savoring the way her body welcomes mine with every slow drag and press. She meets me with the same motion, her hips rolling up to match my flow, her hands tracing slow lines down my back like she's trying to memorize the shape of me by touch alone.

There's no rush in either of us tonight, no urgency — just two people who've finally stopped fighting the thing fate handed them, taking their time saying so with their bodies.

"I love you," she breathes, over and over, like a chant. I watch delicately as her nipples dance on her chest, begging for a taste.

I drop my forehead to hers, my own voice cracking around the words even as my hips keep their slow, steady rhythm. My dick throbs within her as she tightens around me. I can feel her walls contracting, making it difficult for me to hold on.

Her breath catches, hitches, and I feel her grip coiling around me, her nails pressing crescents into my shoulders, her moans climbing slowly instead of bursting all at once — building like a tide instead of a storm. I shift my weight, hook one of her knees higher against my ribs, and the new angle drags a long, broken moan out of her that goes straight through me.

"Right there," she gasps, her whole body arching beneath mine. "Finn, don't stop, press harder right⁠—"

I finally find the spot that drives her crazy and I stick to it, hitting it repeatedly and watch her body tremble below. It climbs faster, deeper, the headboard knocking soft and steady against the old beam, her voice breaking apart into fragments of my name and love and yours.

I drop my mouth to her throat and graze my teeth gently against her pulse, feeling her shudder hard beneath me, feeling the connection pull tighter and brighter with every stroke until it feels like standing too close to lightning.

"I can't hold on…" she chokes out, her whole body quaking. "Finn, I'm so close⁠—"

" Right here, uh?" I continue treating that spot with a certain urgency.My own voice is wrecked, my control unraveling thread by thread.

That's what breaks her — slow and complete, not a shattering this time but a long, deep unraveling, her whole body clenching tight around me as she cries out my name against my shoulder. I follow right behind her, my release rolling through me on a low groan, my forehead dropping to hers as we both go still, breathless, tangled together in the moonlight.

We fall back, sweat rolling down our skin, her head tucked beneath my chin, my fingers tracing slow lines down her spine.

"So," she says eventually, voice soft and sated against my chest. "We have proof. We have each other. What now?"

"Now," I mutter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "we take the bastard down. Together."

"Together," she repeats, like she's still getting used to the word applying to her. "I like the sound of that."

I tighten my grip around her and listen to the water lapping against the boathouse pilings outside, steady as a heartbeat, and now, I'm not bracing for the next wave to take something away from me.

I'm just here. With her. And that's enough.