Everythings is Fin 26

CADEN’S POV

Her kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was an uprising against my self-control.

Her lips collided with mine like a storm, hot and urgent, pulling me under. Her breath seared my skin, her taste dizzying, and for one blinding moment, thought vanished. Instinct surged forward, betraying every barrier I’d ever built.

Her tongue brushed mine, and I exhaled a groan into her mouth, guttural and raw. My hands found her hips without permission, drawing her in until our bodies locked, every curve of hers pressed tightly against me. Her chest molded to mine, her breath catching as we moved in rhythm.

She moaned, low and husky, a sound that reverberated straight through me. Her hands clawed at my back, nails biting through the fabric of my shirt, and I welcomed it—the sting, the need, the proof that this was real.

Her hips rocked against mine with maddening precision, and I could feel the heat between us even through the layers of clothing. She was fire and temptation incarnate, and I was already burning.

“God,” I murmured against her lips, my voice thick with need. “You’re driving me insane.”

She leaned back just enough to meet my gaze, eyes dark with desire, lips flushed and parted.

“Then make me yours,” she whispered, breathless.

Her hand slid down my chest, over my abs, and straight to my cock, palming me through my pants with a grip that made me see stars. I groaned, my hips bucking into her hand, and she smirked like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes dark and wild, her lips swollen from my kiss.

“Caden, stop thinking,” she whispered, her voice dripping with sin. “And fuck me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the wall, pinning her against it with my body. The impact knocked a painting askew, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck about interior decorating right now.

“Is this what you want?” I rasped, pressing my hardness against her center, making her gasp. “You want me to take you right here? Against this wall?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her head falling back, exposing the delicate line of her throat. “God, yes.”

I kissed her neck, tasting salt and sweetness, sucking hard enough to mark her. Mine. The thought was primitive, possessive, completely unlike me. But nothing about this was like me—I didn’t lose control, didn’t let desire override sense. Until her.

“Caden,” she moaned, my name on her lips sounding like both prayer and profanity. “Don’t make me wait.”

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt in the best possible way. The slight pain only heightened everything else—the scent of her arousal, the heat of her body, the desperate sounds she made as I ground against her.

I slid a hand down between us and found her soaked and aching. She gasped, bucked into my touch, her hands grabbing at my shoulders as I teased her, circled her, drew her higher until her legs trembled.

“Caden, please,” she moaned, biting my shoulder to muffle the sound.

I couldn’t wait anymore.

With one thrust, I buried myself inside her, and we both cried out, raw, broken sounds that shattered the silence like glass. She was so tight, so ready, her body gripping me in waves that made my vision white out. I pulled back, slow and deep, just to feel it again—the way her body clung to mine like she never wanted me to leave.

We found a rhythm—fast, desperate, then slow again, like we were learning each other’s language one thrust at a time. She rode every stroke like she was trying to etch me into her skin, her hips rising to meet mine, her hands everywhere—my hair, my back, my ass—urging me deeper, harder.

“You feel so good,” I growled against her neck, biting down gently. “So tight around me.”

She moaned my name again, but it came out broken—high and breathless. “I’m so close… don’t stop—don’t you dare—”

I didn’t.

I drove into her harder, deeper, her body arching like a bow. Her walls clenched around me as she shattered, crying out my name in a voice that turned me inside out. I followed her over the edge, spilling into her with a growl, every muscle tight, every nerve singing.

And even after the rush faded, I couldn’t stop kissing her—her lips, her jaw, her throat. She was panting, glowing, completely undone beneath me. And somehow, I’d never felt more whole.

I was still inside her when the knock came.

A sharp, deliberate rap on the door. Three measured beats.

She froze beneath me, breath caught in her throat. My hand instinctively slid to her waist, grounding her as we both stared at the door like it might vanish if we stayed quiet.

Then a voice—deep, commanding, unmistakably noble.

“Lord Caden,” came the drawl. “Lord Brennan requests your presence in the west drawing room. Immediately.”

Silence fell thick between us, broken only by the sound of our racing hearts.

Her eyes met mine, wide, still hazy with afterglow but rapidly sharpening with dread. Her lips parted to speak, but I pressed a kiss to them first—soft, reassuring.

“I’ll handle it,” I murmured.

Because Lord Brennan wasn’t just any noble. He was Lady Isolde’s father. And now, after what we’d just done, I was about to face him.