Olivia's POV
The room fell into a heavy, expectant silence. Lennox reached up, his fingers trembling slightly as he tightened the cloth over his eyes too, ensuring the world was nothing but blackness. He let out a long, jagged breath, his head dropping forward as he consciously surrendered.
"I can't see you," he whispered, his voice thick. "But I can feel you. Everywhere."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My heart was a wild animal trapped in my chest. I knew this man. I knew the slope of his shoulders and the way his pulse thrummed under his skin, even if he believed he was a stranger to me. To him, he was Kaine, the guard playing a dangerous game. To me, he was the man I loved, returned from the grave.
He moved then, his hands sliding down my arms to my waist. He didn't pull me down; instead, he shifted, his movements blind but sure. He knelt between my legs, his large hands gripping my thighs with a possessive strength that made my breath hitch.
Slowly, he leaned forward, his face pressed against the silk covering my stomach. He inhaled deeply, as if memorizing the scent of my skin.
"You shouldn't let me do this," he murmured against the fabric.
"Don't talk," I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He didn't need to be told twice. He moved the nightgown up, the cool air hitting my skin for only a second before the heat of his mouth replaced it. He started at my knees, his lips trailing a path of fire upward, tasting every inch of skin with a slow, agonizing deliberation.
When he reached the heat of me, I gasped, my head thumping back against the headboard. He was relentless. He used his tongue and lips with a desperate hunger, as if he were a man dying of thirst and I was the only thing that could save him. It had been so long—years of coldness, years of mourning—and now, the sheer sensation of him was almost too much to bear.
I arched my back, my fingers digging into his shoulders, stifling a scream as the pleasure built into a sharp, peaking ache. He knew exactly what he was doing, his blindfold only making him more attuned to every shudder of my body and every broken sound that left my throat.
Finally, when I was trembling and undone, he moved back up. He didn't wait. I heard him fumble for his trousers, discarding them with a focused haste, and then he was over me.
He braced himself on his forearms, his blindfolded face inches from mine. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving against my breasts.
"Olivia," he choked out. It was a warning, a plea, and a prayer all at once.
He pushed into me in one deep, smooth motion.
A sob escaped my lips—not of pain, but of recognition. It was a perfect, soul-shattering fit. We moved together with a frantic, rhythmic intensity, the bed creaking beneath the weight of our shared desperation. Every thrust was a question, and every gasp was an answer.
The friction of his skin against mine was a fire I never wanted to put out. With the blindfold tight across his eyes, Lennox seemed to operate on instinct alone, his hands roaming my body as if he were trying to read me like Braille. Every time our skin met, a jolt of electricity surged through me, reminding me that under this new identity, the soul of the man I loved was still there.
He groaned low in his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated want. Suddenly, he shifted, his strong arms hooking under my knees and flipping me over onto my stomach. My breath caught as my face pressed into the cool linens of the mattress. I felt the weight of him settle behind me, his chest pressing against my back, hot and solid.
Being blindfolded changed everything. Without sight, the feeling of his hands on my hips was amplified a thousand times. He gripped me firmly, his fingers digging into my skin, and when he entered me again from behind, it was deep and possessive.
I let out a broken moan, my fingers clawing at the sheets. He was relentless, his pace steady and driving, each movement calculated to make me unravel. The darkness between us made it feel like we were the only two people left in the world. There were no Alphas, no pack duties, and no lies—just the raw, rhythmic sound of our breathing and the heat of our bodies colliding.
"Olivia," he rasped, his voice vibrating through my spine. He leaned down, biting gently at the shell of my ear, his stubble grazing my cheek. "You're so tight… so perfect."
I couldn't take it anymore; I needed to be closer. I needed to see him, even if it was only through touch. I pushed back against him, and as he sensed my movement, he helped me turn.
I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. I felt him beneath me, hard and ready, as I lowered myself down. A long, loud moan escaped my lips, echoing in the quiet room. I arched my back, my hands finding his chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart.
I moved on him, setting a pace that made my head spin. Every time I went up and down, I felt the sheer power of him. I leaned forward, my hair falling over my shoulders like a veil, and whispered his name—the name he didn't think I knew—into the crook of his neck.
"Lennox…"
He stiffened for a second, his hands flying to my waist to steady me. "What did you say?" he whispered, his voice shaking.
I didn't answer with words. I leaned down and kissed him, my tongue dancing with his, drowning out the question with pure passion. I moved faster, my body slick with sweat, the pleasure building into an unbearable tension. He met every one of my movements, his hips snapping upward to meet mine, until finally, we both came with a loud moan, not minding that anyone could hear us.
I collapsed against his chest, my heart racing against his, gasping for air as the waves of the climax slowly receded, leaving us both trembling in the dark.