Chapter 10 Aug 18, 2025 Celeste "You're shaking," he said. "So are you," I whispered. The door slammed shut behind him. I stood there, heart pounding, chest rising too fast to hide what I'd done. What we'd both done. He didn't speak again. He just stared at me, chest heaving, eyes dark and dangerous. One step. Then another. His boots echoed across the marble. I didn't move. My breath hitched, but my feet didn't. "Say it," he rasped. "Say it now, and I'll walk away." I licked my lips. "You won't." And God help me, I didn't want him to. He surged forward like a storm finally breaking, and his mouth slammed into mine-rough, hungry, all teeth and rage and need. I gasped into the kiss, not from surprise but from how right it felt. Like something we'd been holding back for too long finally tore free. He bit my bottom lip and dragged a sound from my throat that wasn't human. I clutched at his coat, fingers fumbling at the buttons. My nails scraped his chest through the linen, frantic and clumsy. "Tell me to stop," he growled into my mouth. I kissed him harder, bruising. "Tell me." He pulled back just long enough to mutter, "This is a goddamn mistake." "Then make it again." We crashed onto the settee, limbs tangled. My shoulder slipped bare, and he was already there-his mouth branding my skin. I writhed beneath him as he kissed down my neck, my collarbone, biting just hard enough to make me cry out. "I hate you," I gasped, my voice breaking. "I know," he murmured against my chest. "I hate you more." His hand pushed my skirts up with a growl, the fabric sliding around my hips. His belt came undone with a single violent tug. I moaned at the sound. "Do you even know what you're asking for?" he said, forehead pressed to mine, his breath uneven. "Yes," I panted. "I'm begging you to ruin me." He lifted me like I weighed nothing, carried me to the marble column beside the fireplace. I hit it with a gasp, the cold against my spine shocking and raw. His hands were already under my thighs, lifting, spreading, positioning. And then- "Oh God," I cried, nails digging into his shoulders. He sank into me with a groan so low and guttural it made my whole body clench. Finally. The thought crashed through me like lightning. Finally, someone wants me. My head fell back against the column. "Don't stop." "I couldn't if I tried." His hips snapped forward again and again, and I choked on my own breath. His hand slid between my shoulder blades, holding me steady as his thrusts turned punishing. A year, I thought desperately. A year of nothing. Of being treated like a cold statue while my husband- But I didn't want to think about Renard now. Not when Alexandre's body was claiming mine with a hunger that set me on fire. Not when someone was finally touching me like I mattered, like I was more than just decoration. "This isn't love," he ground out. "I know," I gasped. And I did know. This was raw need, desperate want, the collision of two people who had been starving for connection. This was what I had dreamed about in my empty marriage bed-being desired so completely that someone would risk everything just to have me. Let Renard find us, I thought wildly as Alexandre drove deeper. Let him see what real passion looks like. The image of my husband with Mireille flashed through my mind-his hands on her skin, his mouth hungry against her throat. All the passion he had never shown me, wasted on a woman who shared him with other men. He threw me away first, I reminded myself as pleasure built low in my belly. He chose her. He chose everyone but me. Alexandre's grip tightened on my hips, his breathing ragged against my ear. "You're so-" He couldn't finish the sentence, lost in the rhythm we had created. "So what?" I whispered, needing to hear it. "Perfect," he groaned. "So perfect." I could feel him everywhere-in my ribs, in my pulse, in the part of me that hadn't felt anything in years. The rhythm turned frantic. My gown rode high, pooling at my waist. His hand gripped my thigh so hard I'd bruise, but I didn't care. "I've hated you since the moment you walked into this palace," he muttered against my neck. "Then hate me harder," I cried, pulling his face back to mine. He kissed me again, viciously. I met him thrust for thrust, matching his fury with my own. The ache inside me curled tighter with every movement. My hands tore at his shirt, exposed the hard plane of his back. I bit his shoulder, moaning into the fabric. His lips brushed my jaw, down my throat, finding the frantic pulse beneath my skin. "You don't know what you've done," he said, voice cracking. "Yes," I breathed. "I do. And I wanted it." And then it hit me. The release. Violent, shuddering, overwhelming. My body seized around him and I cried out, biting into the velvet at his collar to muffle the sound. His rhythm faltered. His grip tightened. "Céleste-" he groaned. He followed me seconds later, shuddering against me, forehead pressed to mine. One final thrust. A broken sound from his throat. And then stillness. We stayed that way-pinned to each other like the world didn't exist. He didn't speak. Just held me there, still inside me, his breath ghosting across my lips. My tears had already started. I hadn't noticed. "I shouldn't have-" he began. "You already did," I whispered. His eyes met mine. Something shattered between us. "I don't regret it," I added. "Not one second." He exhaled, ragged and raw, and kissed my cheek like he was apologizing for everything he couldn't undo. His arms wrapped around me tighter, like he wasn't sure he could hold the pieces together otherwise. And me? I clung to him. Because for the first time in this palace, someone finally saw me. Even if it destroyed us both.