Zara's breath hitched as his lips lingered on hers, not demanding—exploring. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. For once, it wasn't racing with dominance… it was just real.
> "You're trembling," she whispered, eyes half-lidded.
Aiden's jaw flexed. He didn't deny it.
> "I don't know how to do this," he admitted quietly. "With you… I feel like I'm building something and burning it down at the same time."
Zara slid her hands around his neck, pulling him closer.
> "Then stop fighting it."
She pressed her forehead to his.
> "We're already in the fire."
They stayed like that—bodies close, hearts closer. No chains. No collar. Just skin and silence.
Then Aiden whispered something so quiet, she almost didn't hear it:
> "I'm scared of how much I want you."
Zara's throat tightened.
Because that was the most honest thing he'd ever said.
> "Wanting isn't weakness," she murmured. "Hiding is."
That broke something in him.
He kissed her again, but this time slower—like he was letting her in. Like he wanted her to see every part he kept hidden. Every scar. Every crack.
He lifted her gently from the counter, carrying her not to the dungeon… but to his bedroom. A space she'd never been in.
It was surprisingly human.
No chains. No steel.
Just books, soft lights, and a bed big enough to hold all the demons between them.
He set her down and sat on the edge, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to gather words that wouldn't come.
Zara sat beside him, slipping her hand into his.
> "You don't have to control me to keep me, Aiden."
He looked at her then.
Really looked.
And something shifted.
> "Then stay tonight. No rules. No orders. Just us."
> "That's all I ever wanted," she whispered.
They didn't undress in a frenzy.
He slid the straps of her dress down slowly, kissing each inch of skin like a promise. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt one by one, eyes never leaving his.
And when they lay down together, there were no restraints.
No punishments.
Just skin and skin, warmth and worship.
He touched her like she was fragile—but not weak. Like he wanted to memorize her reactions. The way she gasped when he kissed the curve of her shoulder. The way she whimpered when his fingers traced the inside of her thighs.
He didn't take. He gave.
And when he entered her—slow, deep, trembling—Zara felt something shatter.
Not her walls.
His.
> "Say my name," he murmured.
> "Aiden," she whispered. "Only you."
He buried his face in her neck, arms wrapped around her like he couldn't get close enough.
> "You're breaking me," he breathed.
> "No," she whispered, kissing his temple. "I'm freeing you."
---
The night didn't end in screams.
It ended in silence.
In breathing the same air. In fingers laced beneath warm sheets. In his chest rising against her back and the quiet sigh that left his lips as he finally… slept.
And Zara?
She didn't feel owned.
She felt chosen.
Zara stirred beneath the sheets, the silk brushing her skin as morning sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, she forgot where she was — until she turned… and saw him.
Aiden Knight.
Naked, peaceful, vulnerable in sleep.
He wasn't wearing a mask now.
No billionaire armor. No cold words. No rules.
Just a man. Just… him.
And his arm was draped around her waist like his body knew she might disappear the moment he let go.
She didn't move.
She didn't want to.
Instead, she memorized the sight — the stubble on his jaw, the faint scar near his brow, the way his fingers twitched slightly as he dreamed.
> "You're not a monster," she whispered to the quiet room. "You just never learned how to love without fear."
As if he heard her, Aiden stirred — eyes slowly blinking open, golden and drowsy. For a second, he looked surprised to see her still there.
> "You stayed," he said, voice thick with sleep.
Zara reached for him, brushing her fingers along his cheek.
> "You didn't chain me. That was new."
> "Still time," he smirked, but it was soft — teasing, not threatening.
She rolled her eyes. "I think I liked you better last night."
> "Liar."
> "Maybe."
He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. She felt his sigh — deep and quiet, like his body still hadn't caught up with everything they'd shared.
> "I meant what I said," he whispered. "You're going to break me."
Zara tilted his chin, making him look at her.
> "Then let me put you back together."
There was silence.
A beat.
Two.
And then…
He kissed her again — not like a man staking his claim, but like a man handing her the keys to something sacred.
His heart.
---
They spent the rest of the morning wrapped in each other. No sex. No domination.
Just touches.
Kisses.
Laughter that surprised them both.
Zara fed him strawberries from a plate he claimed he didn't remember ordering.
Aiden pulled her into his lap and whispered ridiculous things in her ear until she giggled so hard she snorted.
He grinned.
> "There. That sound. I could live off that."
Zara covered her face in mock horror. "If you ever bring that up again—"
> "You'll what? Spank me?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't tempt me."
He leaned in, brushing his lips over her shoulder.
> "You'd enjoy it too much."
And just like that — the spark returned. The fire that danced behind their tenderness.
But this time, it wasn't about punishment or rules.
It was about choice.
Want.
Need.
And when he pressed her down onto the sheets again, it wasn't because she disobeyed.
It was because he couldn't get enough of the girl who made him feel something real.
---