Picture Perfect - Page 171

“Saint, why? Why can’t you just leave it be?” My voice breaks, a mix of frustration and exhaustion seeping through. I’ve had enough of the silence and the secrets, enough of the pain that comes with every breath.

“Because!” He explodes, his dark curls seeming to bristle with the force of his outburst. “I love you. Because you’re going to be my wife and I need to know you don’t hate me.” His hands are on my face now, warm and insistent, cradling my cheeks as if he’s afraid I’ll shatter. He says it again, his voice raw, “I love you.”

I’m frozen, my heart hammering so hard it might crack my ribs. I search Saint’s eyes for any hint of deceit, but there is only a desperate sincerity staring back at me. The kind that shakes you to your core. The kind that makes you believe against all odds.

And then there’s Dre, suddenly wrapping himself around me from behind, his presence engulfing, his essence both ice and fire. “Snowflake,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry… for everything. For the secrets, for leaving you at the Winthrops, for not getting to you sooner.” His body trembles with the force of his confession, and I can feel him coming undone.

The air shifts around us, heavy with words left unsaid and actions taken too late. Though they’ve both broken me in ways I can’t yet comprehend, their regret is tangible, wrapping around us like a vice.

“Shhh, Dre,” I whisper, turning to face him, our noses almost touching. I run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms to soother. My fingertips trace over the faint scars that cross cross his skin. I see the boy who has endured too much, the boy who wants to make it right. So I do what feels natural—I kiss him, softly, forgivingly.

He responds with a fervor that speaks of more than just passion. It’s a plea for absolution, a silent vow.

Dre’s hands cradle my face, his touch gentle as if I might shatter. “I love you,” he whispers against my lips, each word a lifeline thrown in the dark waters of my tumultuous heart. He kisses me again, fervently, and this time there’s an urgency that knots in my chest—a sweet, aching pressure that demands to be felt.

He loves me, despite the chaos, and I find myself sinking into that love, even if I’m not sure where it will lead us.

“I love you so much, Snowflake,” he breathes out between kisses that sear my soul.

A laugh bubbles up from within me, surprising even myself with its lightness. “I love you too, Dre.” The words are barely a whisper, but they hold the weight of all the unsaid things, the forgiveness I never thought I could give.

It’s like something inside him breaks—or maybe it remakes. With newfound strength, he lifts me effortlessly, carrying me toward the bed like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held. My heart thunders in my ears as he lays me down, his fingers fumbling yet tender as he undresses me. Then, his warm breath on my skin, reverent and worshipful, and I’m lost to the sensations that follow.

As he lowers his head between my thighs, I feel the rough stubble on his chin tickle my skin. A gasp escapes my lips as his warm, wet tongue slides across my sensitive flesh. My fingers grip the sheets as waves of pleasure ripple through me.

Saint stays back, leaning against the doorframe, his dark eyes intense and unreadable. There’s a tension in his jaw, a war waging behind those guarded depths. But my heart, battered and bruised, somehow finds space for him too.

“Saint,” I breathe out, extending a shaky hand towards him. “I love you too.”

The room feels charged, electric with raw emotion as he hesitates, then steps forward, accepting the silent invitation. There’s a vulnerability in the way he moves, a silent plea echoing in the distance between us. His presence is a balm to the chaos, the final piece in a puzzle I didn’t realize was incomplete until now.

A gasp draws my attention to the door, and Chess stands there, his dark hair tousled, eyes wide with a storm of emotions. “Dios mio,” he curses under his breath, the words slipping out in a mix of awe and exasperation.

“Chess,” I gasp, my voice a ragged thread of sound. I reach out a hand towards him, fingers trembling from the rush of what Dre has ignited within me. My body is a live wire, every touch sparking something deep and primal.

Dre presses his lips against me, soft at first but then with an urgent hunger. He pulls my clit into his mouth and sucks hard, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I can’t help but cry out in delight as he continues to devour me whole.

His tongue swirls and twirls, teasing my sensitive flesh. I grip onto his hair, pulling him closer, not above begging.

“Addy,” Chess breathes, stepping closer, his hazel eyes flaring with that familiar mischievous light that belies the depth of his feelings. There’s a hesitation, a question in his gaze, as if he’s still unsure if he belongs in this tangled web we’ve woven.

“Come here,” I plead, needing him to bridge the gap, to erase any doubt that he is as much a part of this as Saint and Dre.

He moves, drawn by the gravity of our connection, and kneels on the bed. His fingertips graze my skin, sending ripples of pleasure through me. “I’m sorry for just barging in like—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, pulling him down to me. Our lips meet in a kiss that silences all apologies, all hesitations. It’s a promise, a seal over the cracks in our bond. “It’s okay.”

“Addy,” he murmurs against my lips, “you’re incredible.”

We get lost then, in the push and pull of hands and mouths. Dre’s touch, Saint’s gaze, Chess’s whispers—they blend into a symphony of sensation that crescendos within me.

“More,” I breathe, a plea, a command.

And they oblige, Dre’s mouth relentless, Chess’s hands exploring with unspoken reverence, while Saint anchors me with his presence, his touch gentle yet possessive. The world narrows to the room, to the bed, to the three of them surrounding me, filling me with an intensity that shatters me over and over.

“Te amo,” Chess whispers into my ear, his breath hot. Each word punctuates another wave that crashes through me, leaving me gasping, shuddering.

“Love you too,” I manage to say between the tremors, reaching out to twine my fingers in his hair, anchoring myself to him as much as he does to me.