Corbyn's POV.

Her small frame comes, firstly, in view in my mirror. Her steps are hesitant and heavy as if the energy is drained painfully out of her. Her fingers cradle the handle, and she gets inside the car. Her aroma pervades the air of the car, instantly; a sugary and fresh scent of her innocence. My eyes regard all of her. Her eyes are bloodshot, her rosy lips are pursed against each other, strongly, almost achingly, her lashes still glow due to the tears the fell from them earlier. Her trembling fingers are tangled up in her lap, her knuckles are whitened as if she is trying to swallow all the pain at once. I notice our ironic contradiction. I externalize my despondency and fury while she faces it standing opposite it, silently; either by digging it within her or expressing it through tears.

She doesn't say a word, and I respect that. I know our visit here is something she owed herself to do despite the courage she had to use to come. I'm proud of my girl. I'm glad she cried; she fought herself, overcoming her fears. She felt her agony in its depths and let it out through her tears.

As I drive, I rest my hand on her thigh, and she surprises me when she interviews her cold and rigid fingers through mine, easing a part of me. I'm terrified of the probability of her pushing me away, especially now. I run my thumb across her knuckles pleading her to relax. This is the effect she has over me; she calms me and, now, for the first time, I have to do that for her. Her eyelids close as her breaths slow. Gradually, her body loosens up against mine. My warmth passes through her. I bring her hand to my lips and plant a soft kiss on every one of her knuckles before dropping our interlocked hands in my lap.

Throughout our ride to the airport, her eyes were fluttering, slowly, glancing outside at the moving houses and cars around us. Her lips never parted to say something. It reminded me of the time I met her; her lost voice was a mystery to me. I hated it back then too. And now, I loath it. I miss her voice, my soft whisper of solace. I yearn for the way her eyes lock and gleam with love when they meet mine.

She rested her head on my shoulder during the flight as she fell asleep. Her calmness was terrifying; tranquility before a storm of despair. I admired the way her eyelashes fluttered seldom. My fingers were playing with hers as I was begging for rest. But I couldn't. The adrenaline of fear was crackling under my skin. I don't want to lose her. And this silence scares me.

I place our bags inside my jeep; I missed it. I toss my jacket in the trunk, preferring to stay with my shirt, sensing the heat of the atmosphere sticking in my pores. My baby girl has her arms folded in front of her chest as her head is tilted in the side watching my movements. I attempt to say something, though, I swallow it. I don't want to push her. I move towards the driver's seat when she stops me. She grabs my shirt with her hands bringing us closer as she reduces the distance. Her eyes are no longer red, screaming in exhaustion and emotional fatigue. Her cheeks have earned back their usual rosy color. Her lips curve upwards. My heart somersaults when she breathes in, ready to speak.

"Thank you," Her two words decompress my whole being as never before. I sense every inch of me loosen up.

"Thank me for what?"

"For coming to me," She smiles, shyly. "Thank you for finding me, for fighting for us when I didn't,"

A grin unfolds on my lips; she doesn't question us. She's mine. Baby.

Restraining all my desires for hours, I surge myself in my girl connecting our lips for what felt like centuries. I never knew what a kiss could feel like, but, now, as she kisses me back, it seems as all the air has returned to my fucking universe. And she's goddamn lightening it.

I slide my arms around her waist and lift her toes off of the ground, craving to feel all her body pressed against mine. Her tongue unlocks my lips and my body reacts. Her sweetness fills my mouth as I ravage hers. It fucking ignites me and I hate we're not alone in our bedroom.

Her pants serenade my ears when I break the kiss. I look at her as she leans her head back, biting her lip. A faint moan escapes as she relives the last second. She needed it as much I did.

"You scared me, you know that?" Her eyes open and a cute frown troubles her eyebrows, connecting them.

"Why?"

"You didn't say a word to me."

"And?"

"I supposed you would push me away, maybe asked me some time and..."

"No," She stops me. "I don't want that. It's just, this weekend was a lot. My friends, memories, this feeling of doom and fear. The cemetery," She sums up the events of the weekend and I feel like a fucking asshole.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask, curling a loose strand of her hair around my fingers before placing it behind her ear. She nods, smiling and it's a wonder to see; her rosy lips and cheeks, her eyes radiating love and energy. My lips are a reflection of hers before I even know. I peck at her lips.

"We should go,"

"Okay,"

Amelia's POV

I throw my long coat in the chair of my desk. In Chicago, it was freezing, I was shivering praying for warmth, and found it in my angel's arms. Although, here, my body reacts rapidly, my pores glistening by the sweat. I open my window letting some fresh air slide into my room after switching on the main light. Corbyn's movements whip me around to find him placing our baggage on the floor. His jacket flies in the bed with speed. His shirt has stuck to his chest, his formed abs, easily, visible under his black t-shirt. I sense something clenching inside of me. I shake my head looking away.

"Uhm..."

"Is something wrong?"

"No," I say, smiley, turning to him. He nods and starts scrambling around my room. I stare at him. He runs his fingers through his hair; they are gleaming by the light of the lamp at the top of our heads. He draws the closet open revealing his pile of clothes. He takes his shirt off and my eyes don't seem to have the courage to look elsewhere. His muscles flap in waves as he moves, clenching and stretching. I sense it echoing within me. The muscles in my abdomen clench painfully. He shoves the black shirt on the floor, with a soft, almost noiseless thud. I realize my breathing is hardening.

I frown and touch my cheeks, I flinch at their hotted temperature. I swirl around and watch my reflection in the glass of my window. They are burning red. I pass my hands through my hair. My heart is pulsating in my cage rib, throbbing my red blood through my veins speedily. My eyes move and catch his movement behind me through the reflection. He takes off his jeans and grasping a pair of black pants, puts them on quickly. I bite my lip sensing my body reacting without my control.

I shiver and feel the heat on the back of my neck. When my knees weaken, I panic. Oh no. I thought he had that effect on me only when he touched me; I was, absolutely, wrong.

"Baby," His hand brushes my waist, and a torturing and flaming tide of electricity soar inside of me. I gasp, fearfully, and turn around with wide and terrified eyes. I take a step back and the electricity stops when our bodies disconnect. I glance back at the place of attachment.

"Are you okay?" His brow creases in confusion. I hum along, keeping my distance. "You're sure?"

The cool wind, from my window right behind me, passes through me. Though, his eyes are piercing blazes in me with his intense gaze. Hot-fire. I have difficulty breathing properly. What is wrong with me?

He steps closer and I panic. I need to get out of my room till I figure out how to handle this. I whirl around, escaping his trapping gaze praying for a way out.

"What's wrong?" He questions.

"I a-am g-good," I shutter and close my eyes at my stupidity. "I'm just...uhm...gonna go for...a..." My heart pounds, though, an idea pops into my head. "A-a shower," I stumble over the words. My eyes scan, frantically, around till I locate my white bath towel. I grab it and run towards my door. Corbyn grabs my arm and brings me in front of him.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," I whisper, mortified of the idea of the higher volume causing me to shutter.

"Then, why are you reacting like this?"

"Like what?" I glance towards the door; a few feet away. His fingers pull my chin to look at him. The flaming sensation erupts in me and my skin tingles becoming, eventually numb. I take it off of his grasp. I attempt to stride backward, though, his eyes narrow. He yanks my waist with his hands and pins me in my closet. My backbone aches at the sharp and abrupt impact. It's like I'm trapped inside his blazing magnetic field; terrifying yet there's something inside of me that doesn't want to escape.

I glance at my shoes, my whole body is burning up as his hands have surrounded me; his form inches away from mine. I sense the sensual tension bursting between us, though, what if it's just me. What's happening?

"Look at me," He orders. His voice is hoarse and sharp as if he can bleed me to death. He grabs my chin and forces my eyes to peer up. He's furious. "What is going on with you?"

"Just let me go to the bathroom,"

"Tell me and you will,"

"Just let me go and all will be go back to normal..." I don't even comprehend nor realize what I'm saying. The words whirl around my brain causing a tornado of nonsense. I can't think. My chest aches, as my body feels heavier.

"Back to normal? What is that supposed to mean?" His eyebrows furrow. He raises his hands to touch me and my eyes widen. I stick myself in the closet. I don't think I will bear it. He frowns deepens in response. His eyes scan me.

"Tell me," He grits. The air evaporates.

"Are you angry at me?" I whisper. He seals his eyes breathing heavily, he tries not to explode. "Just let me..." I attempt to walk away but he thrusts me right back. Hot-desire crashes through me. I feel jolted by electrical current as if I'm flaming with passion. Is that it? Passion?

"You're going nowhere," He demands. "This is the third time today."

"Third of what?" I ask.

"Third time you rejected my touch," I gape at him realizing what he must think I'm doing. I lock my eyes hiding my face in my hands. "What is going on?"

"I don't know," My muffled murmur reaches him as he puffs out air. "I just..." I look up. "I just feel all those..." I stop midsentence recognizing the symptoms. That night on the porch I felt I was burning up alive more sensually and most sweetly. I glance down at my hands and knees as they shake, lightly. My heart is echoing loudly in the back of my ears. He frowns peering at the contours of my face as realization dawns on me.

"Oh my," I mutter looking back at my favorite twinkling eyes. It's him. I want him.

"Tell me," My cheeks redden even more at his demand. I peep around. I don't know how to act, what to say. He always initiated it. He always felt my need to do more, go further, yet, here I am debating what to say. My heart palpitates, frightened of the humiliation and utter exposure.

"Can you turn off the light?" I whisper thinking the darkness might help me to confess it.

"What the..."

"Please," He rolls his eyes, and spreading his arm, he switches off the light. I exhale and let the chilly fresh air inside of me, a feeling of limited relaxation, finally, graces me. When I unlock my lashes, I find our room doomed in darkness. Behind his shoulder, the full moon shimmers in the endless dark ocean beyond my window along with the petite angels. I look back at my very own. I can't, clearly, see him; the periphery of his tall figure, though, in front of me clenches my whole being.

"I..." I take a deep breath. My heart thunders; it's the absolute only sound I can hear. I catch a breath to speak but halt. My body is on fire. "I want you to make love to me,"

A rapid movement distracts me before I'm bathed in the strong light.

"No," I complain softly and bury my face in my hands. This couldn't be any more humiliating and embarrassing than this. The redness of shame covers me dooming me utter distress. His hands grip my wrists and free my face before his fingers lift my chin. I await the laughter or the cruel and opprobrious remarks, though, when our eyes meet, I don't detect anything of the sort in his blue sparkling eyes.

"Is that it?" I nod; internally frightened of his futuristic reaction. He seals his eyes, momentarily, letting a breath out of his system. His body seems to be freed by tension and agony, he curses under his breath. He presses his body against mine pinning me to the closet. I can feel him all over me; my body ignites and I, literally, think I will explode. My eyes widen as I gasp, though, his, are locked. He burrows his head in my neck. I clench as he relaxes against me. I frown, not understanding.

"Fuck," His voice sounds muffled from my hair. He leans back peering down at me. "Are you sure that's it?"

"Yes," I mutter; my voice barely audible. The aching uncertainty flickers on his blue-sky eyes causing my heart to drop.

"Why were you reacting like this?" He asks instead.

"I feel all those emotions burning me. I-I...I didn't know what it was," A small smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What?"

"Why are you shy about it?" I frown at his words. "I don't think I have ever seen your cheeks redder than that," I swat his chest causing him to chuckle. Although, before I can laugh too, I get shocked by the spot of connection and jerk back. His chest is free of clothes, his rocked and muscular upper body almost gleams under the lamplight. I bite my lip, unconsciously, burying, painfully, my fingers in the white towel I'm holding into and glance up. His eyes have darkened and all the insecurities of the latest seconds or the fury I was fearing are gone. I dissect his gaze; pure desire and lust.

His lips land on mine as his hands wrenches the towel and shoves it in the ground before seizing my waist gluing my body to his. I sense his moving chest against mine and the fire is overwhelming. I attempt to flee feeling all my cells melt and break down on the ground. With every kiss, a part of me escapes and vanishes. I attempt to flee but his arms clatch me forcefully. His tongue forces its way into my mouth and I moan. My muscles ache all at once. As if the desire is pain yet heaven.

I break the kiss panting despite his action against it.

"I-I can't..." I moan.

"Why not?" His eyes search mine.

"It's hurting me. I don't-I don't know what is wrong with me,"

George's face resurfaces in my memory. I was kissing him on the bench without feeling anything but the motion of our lips together. Nothing. And now, I'm mortified of the overwhelming passion of my angel. At the moment, I'm scared he will pull me under and crush me. He takes my hands and his, though, that feels too much.

"Corbyn, I can't,"

"Look at me," He says, softly. "I know it's somehow painful but the only way is if we do this. Just try to endure this for a little and then it won't be that intense," I stare at him, silently. "Trust me,"

His eyes fall on my lips. The temperature around us increases drastically. His mouth captures mine and I moan at the overwhelming fire. His arms wrap themselves around me gluing my frame in his bigger one. My knees are weakened and I grasp his upper arms to hold on to. His skin flames under my fingertips and I bury my nails into his flesh. He groans, though, the hoarse sound gets lost in my throat, vibrating my bones. I quiver against his body and he pushes me against him.

His fingers raise my shirt with one graceful and quick mood. His lips find mine before my eyes can examine the situation around me. His lips kiss mine yet this time his fingers touch the button of my jeans. He touches my skin and I freeze.

"No," I moan. His eyes search mine; they are glassy but need and desire have altered them. Despite my word, he doesn't stop. His eyes turn to the side causing him to frown. However, before I can form a coherent question, he switches off the lights of my bedroom. His fingers brush my skin and I gasp. Bending down, he drags the material of my jeans, and carrying me with one arm, he takes me off of them. I keep gasping, gaping at his dark figure; terrified and having absolutely no idea of what he will do next.

"Corbyn," My weak voice comes out as a moan of passion. He grips my waist with his hands and guides us to bed.

"I'm gonna stop when you tell me to," He says and I gape at him. The light of the streetlamp is faint, providing me a faint illumination of his profile. Though, I can't see his eyes. "Alright?" I nod, but before I can speak, he pushes me down the mattress covering my body with his flaming and demanding one.

Hey guys! I took a swing today and maybe took it a bit too far. Was it too much? Did it make you feel awkward? If yes, please let me know so I won't repeat something like this. Thank you! And one more thing. What's your favorite chapter from the book so far? Please, tell me; I've been dying to know! <3