MOON BOUND DECEPTION

Chapter 11 The morning after

The first rays of sunlight crept through the sheer curtains, casting long golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Ava stirred, not because of the light, but from the firm, anchoring weight of an arm tightening around her waist. The scent of musk and something more primal—woodsmoke, earth, male—lingered in the air, woven into the cotton of the sheets, into her skin, into her memory.

Daxus was already awake.

She could feel the steady rhythm of his breath against the back of her neck, warm and slow, as if even his lungs obeyed a different tempo than the rest of the world. His chest was pressed flush to her back, skin to skin, his body heat enveloping her like a second blanket. It should have felt intrusive. Instead, it felt... grounding. Like she belonged exactly where she was, and nowhere else.

“You sleep deep,” he said, voice low and rough, thick with sleep and something else. Possession. Satisfaction.

“You wore me out,” she murmured, lips barely moving, voice raspy from sleep and whatever else had passed between them during the night.

A sound rumbled in his chest—half chuckle, half growl. The sound of someone both amused and pleased. “I could say the same.”

He shifted behind her, letting his fingers trace the bare curve of her hip, slow and deliberate. The touch was lazy, almost idle, but there was nothing casual in the way her body responded. Her skin prickled under his touch, heat stirring low in her belly. She didn’t stop him. Didn’t flinch. The careful caution she usually carried like armor had slipped away sometime in the night—and she hadn’t even noticed it go.

“You’re unreal, Ava,” he said softly, more to himself than to her. “I’ve seen beautiful. You’re something else.”

She rolled onto her back, the sheet slipping from her chest in the process. His eyes dropped instantly, unapologetically. No shame, no pretense. Just raw, unfiltered appreciation. He looked at her like a man starving and finally getting to feast.

“Do you always stare this much?” she asked, one brow arching as she met his gaze.

“Only when I like what I’m looking at,” he said. His voice dropped another octave as he reached out to trace a finger over the slope of her breast, the touch featherlight and reverent. “And I like looking at you.”

She didn’t cover herself. Didn’t shrink away. Her curiosity hadn’t burned out with the night—it was still there, flickering and alive in the way she studied him now. Like she was still trying to understand what he was. Not just the man—the beast underneath. The thing that watched her with a hunger that was more than physical.

He leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, then another just below it. His mouth moved with intention, unhurried. Daxus didn’t rush—not in this. Not with her. He touched her like he had all the time in the world. Like the clock bent for him, or broke entirely.

Ava reached up, fingertips ghosting along the strong line of his jaw. “You don’t strike me as the type to linger after.”

“I’m not,” he said, without hesitation. “But I’m making an exception.”

His mouth followed the path of her hand—her wrist, the inside of her elbow, the dip of her ribs. Every kiss was a promise. Every touch was a stake in some invisible claim. He didn’t treat her like she was fragile. He treated her like he was allowed. Like she belonged to him now.

And the strangest part was—she didn’t mind.

She felt the pull again, low and deep, coiling in her stomach. She didn’t question it. Not anymore. Her body arched instinctively, welcoming him, her hands sliding down his back to pull him closer, grounding herself in the reality of his weight, his warmth, his presence.

He growled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin, sending a ripple of want through her. “You always this eager in the morning?”

“Only when I wake up with someone like you,” she replied, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

He grinned, sharp and satisfied, revealing teeth that hinted at the predator beneath the man. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

This time, when he kissed her, it was deeper. Slower. Like worship. Like he was mapping her all over again, relearning every inch of her with lips and tongue and hands. When he moved inside her again, it was measured and deliberate, like every thrust was chosen, every angle perfected.

He didn’t close his eyes. He watched her. Watched her mouth fall open, her fingers tighten, her breath catch. Ava met his gaze, unflinching, open. She didn’t pretend. She didn’t hide. She gave him every part of her in that moment—body, breath, heartbeat.

There were no words. None were needed. Everything was spoken in touch and rhythm, in the arch of her spine and the press of his hand to her thigh. In the way he kissed her like he’d never get the chance again.

And maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe this was a once-and-never-again sort of thing.

But it didn’t feel like it.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in the center of the bed, a tangle of limbs and heat and silence. The sheets were a mess around them, half on the floor, twisted beneath her knees. Her head rested on his shoulder, his hand drawing lazy circles against the smooth line of her thigh.

Neither of them spoke. For a long time, silence filled the space between them—not awkward, not heavy. Just quiet. Like the calm after a storm, or the hush of breath after a scream.

Ava’s eyes tracked the patterns the light made on the ceiling, her thoughts slower than usual, weighted down by more than just exhaustion. She knew she should go. Knew that the longer she stayed, the more dangerous this became. Daxus wasn’t safe—not in the ways that mattered. He was power and dominance and secrets wrapped in the skin of a man who kissed like sin.

But gods, he was also warmth. Comfort. Craving. A drug she hadn’t realized she’d already taken too much of.

“I should go,” she said at last, her voice quiet, tentative. But she didn’t move.

“You won’t,” Daxus replied, equally soft—but resolute.

She tilted her head just enough to meet his gaze. “You think I’ll stay because you say so?”

He met her look without blinking. “No,” he said simply. “I think you’ll stay because you want to.”

Ava didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Because he was right.

And that was the most dangerous part.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment. Just long enough to pretend none of it mattered. That there wouldn’t be consequences waiting on the other side of this bed. That she wasn’t toeing the line between curiosity and something far deeper.

“Tell me something real,” she said suddenly.

Daxus’s fingers stilled on her leg. “Like what?”

“Anything,” she said. “Something true. Not flirty. Not teasing. Just… you.”

He was quiet for a long beat. Then, “I haven’t slept like that in years.”

She looked at him, surprised.

“I don’t mean the s*x,” he clarified, voice still low. “I mean afterward. Resting. Being still. I don’t… I don’t let myself do that. Not often. Not with anyone.”

Ava swallowed. “Why now?”

His jaw flexed, but his voice stayed calm. “Because when I’m with you, everything else shuts up. The noise. The weight. It’s just... gone.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. But her hand reached for his without thinking, fingers curling between his like it was natural.

Like it was always meant to happen.

And in the quiet that followed, Ava realized something that made her breath catch:

She wasn’t just in danger of wanting him.

She was in danger of needing him.