honey, there is no right way

Ever’s soft groan breaks unbidden as Isla's hands sweep down his chest, and the words I love you sink straight into his bones like a weight and a balm at once. For a moment he can only breathe her in, forehead leaning against hers, chest hitching while his fingers find the delicate line of her cheek. The gesture is instinct, tender and grounding, even with his body straining hard against hers.

Her rocking hips steal his focus back to the present, to the pressure that makes his pulse thrum in places far beyond his heart. He remembers what she’s told him before—how his voice, the way he gave shape to desire, was something she enjoyed, and though heat colours his cheeks, there’s no falter in the words he gives her now. "I want to see you," he whispers, the softness of tone a strange contrast to the meaning. His hand slips from her cheek to her hip, guiding the line of her body over his in a way that makes the request tangible. His eyes flick deliberately to the tall mirror leaning against the wall; one they’d purchased from the House of Midnight specifically for this reason.

"Over there," he adds, voice low but steady, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. "I want to watch you while I fuck you."

I will not be brave
but i'm grateful to get through