The night that followed was a blur of raw sensation, a symphony of touch and desperate need that stripped away the last vestiges of Maëlys's emotional armor. Eliott was a force of nature, his passion as untamed and fierce as the ocean outside her isolated house. He moved with a potent blend of tenderness and possessiveness, each caress a silent promise of ownership, each kiss a branding iron on her skin.
He stripped away her clothes slowly, his stormy eyes burning over every inch of exposed skin, as if committing her body to memory. His rough hands, scarred and powerful, traced the curves of her waist, the flare of her hips, sending a jolt of pure fire through her veins. Maëlys arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips, a sound of yearning she hadn't known she possessed. His fingers found the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, trailing upwards, igniting a hunger that eclipsed all fear, all doubt.
Eliott's breath hitched as he finally shed his own sweatpants, revealing the full extent of his desire. He was magnificent, a sculpted landscape of muscle and ink, and her gaze devoured him. He was the epitome of dangerous beauty, a dark angel carved from shadow and primal desire.
He leaned over her, his eyes blazing, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Mine," he whispered, his voice hoarse with urgency, claiming her with the simple, guttural word. His lips descended, devouring hers in a kiss that was both savage and desperate. It was a plunge into the depths of their shared inferno, a reunion of bodies that remembered each other even when their minds had forgotten.
His touch was everywhere, consuming her, igniting every nerve ending. His fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers in a desperate dance of possession. Maëlys clung to him, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, driven by a primal need to be closer, to merge with him until there was no beginning or end to their bodies.
He moved over her, the hard press of his body against hers an exquisite torture. With a groan that tore from his throat, he plunged into her, a seamless, breathtaking fit that made her cry out. It was intense, overwhelming, a searing heat that consumed her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, demanding more. Each thrust was a powerful rhythm, driving out the ghosts of her past, replacing them with the raw, exhilarating present.
Eliott moved with a primal urgency, his hips grinding against hers, his breath ragged against her ear. He whispered words, half-formed, possessive declarations lost in the haze of their shared passion. "Never leave me... never again..." He kissed her fiercely, claiming her breath, her sanity, her very soul. Maëlys met his every thrust, rising to meet him, her body a willing canvas for his powerful expression of need. She was no longer just responding; she was participating, demanding, burning with a hunger that matched his own.
The climax, when it came, was an explosive release, a shattering wave of pleasure that ripped through her, leaving her trembling and utterly spent. Eliott groaned, collapsing against her, his body heavy and sated, his breath ragged against her neck. His arms tightened around her, possessive and protective, as if he feared she might still vanish.
As their heartbeats slowly synchronized, Maëlys lay tangled with him, the scent of their shared passion heavy in the air. The physical act had been a brutal, beautiful reminder of the undeniable pull between them, a dangerous connection etched deeper than any tattoo. She might not remember all their past, but her body had remembered Eliott, recognizing the fierce passion that was uniquely theirs. She was branded by his fire, inextricably linked, a willing participant in the dark, consuming love that threatened to claim her entirely. And for the first time since her amnesia, she felt less like a broken reflection, and more like a whole, dangerous woman, reborn in the flames of Eliott's embrace.