All That Went Unsaid | Complete (18+)

Chapter 24

Disclaimer: 18+ explicit content

Sophie Esinberg's POV

He alone had the power to quiet the storm inside me. That kiss in the penthouse hadn't just unsettled me—it had consumed me whole, stripped me down to nerve and heartbeat until nothing else existed. How could I think about my future, about the endless grind of my lab, when he demanded every last drop of my present? In his arms, the pain dissolved, the weight slipped away. There was only him. Only us.

When he finally tore his mouth from mine, we were both breathing hard, lungs burning as if oxygen alone couldn't sustain us. He lifted a hand, the backs of his fingers grazing my cheek in a touch so gentle it nearly undid me. I leaned into it, helpless against the tenderness in him.

"My princess," he murmured, voice rough, reverent. "I've waited so long for you."

The way he said it—the hunger laced with devotion—knocked the air from my chest. His gaze dropped to my neckline, lingering, and in a reckless act of defiance—or maybe surrender—I shifted, letting the fabric fall just an inch lower.

The sound he made, raw and bitten off, curled heat low in my belly. My lips tugged into a slow, dangerous smile. "Then show me."

He didn't hesitate. His mouth crashed into mine, fierce and claiming, stealing every thought, every defense I might've clung to. His hand slid to my jaw, cupping me as if I might vanish if he didn't hold me tight enough. His other hand splayed broad across my back, trailing lower, lower, until he found the hem of my tee and slipped beneath.

Heat ignited where his skin met mine, spreading outward until it burned in every vein.

Fuck, yes.

Every atom in me screamed it. Every instinct, every scarred corner of my heart that I'd sworn was impenetrable, bent under the weight of him.

And I didn't want to fight it. Not tonight.

I stroked my tongue against his lower lip, tentative and teasing, and the moment he parted for me, heat flooded my veins. Our tongues slid together—slow, deliberate, devastating—yet the tremor it sent through me was anything but steady. My fingers tangled in his hair, clutching him like he was the only anchor I had left.

His moan—low, guttural, vibrating against my mouth—shattered something inside me. God, I could drown in that sound. I leaned deeper into him, lost, greedy for every ounce of ecstasy he offered.

Then his hand shifted, trailing down the column of my throat in one languid stroke before skimming across the swell of my breast. My breath hitched, my body arching into his touch as if it belonged there, as if it had been waiting for years. 

The kiss deepened, urgent now, his hunger spilling into mine. His fingers hooked the hem of my tee, tugging upward with a deliberate roughness until the fabric was gone.

A cool rush of air washed over me, and suddenly I was bared in ways that had nothing to do with skin. My chest rose and fell, caged only by black lace. The irony wasn't lost on me—I'd slipped it on this morning without a thought, but now I silently thanked every reckless instinct I had.

His eyes darkened, sweeping from my throat, lingering at the curves he used to know by heart, and drifting lower. The way he looked at me made me feel both worshiped and undone.

"So. Fucking. Perfect," he growled, every word a brand against my skin.

Heat coiled low in my belly. His hand slid upward again, torturously slow, fingers brushing along my side until they curled possessively at my nape. The other gripped me firmly, sliding to my ass, pulling me flush against the solid, unyielding strength of him.