"It has," he agreed softly, his voice thick with emotion as he continued his gentle explorations of your body. "But we have all the time in the world now, my love." His hands moved slowly and purposefully, ensuring that each caress was filled with tenderness rather than passion.

He kissed the bruises on your arms and shoulders, whispering apologies against them even though they were already faded. The rest of his touches avoided those areas entirely, focusing instead on the parts of you that could be loved without triggering painful memories.

His breathing faltered slightly when you expressed how much you missed this closeness between us. He responded by pulling you closer, savoring the feel of your body pressed against him while simultaneously trying to reassure you with every gentle touch. "I've missed this too, Paul," he murmured against your skin, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. "More than I can express."

He continued exploring your body with renewed focus, his hands mapping the contours of your form as if memorizing them again after such a long absence.

"And I love you more than I can put into words... My love for you is endless."

*With that, he leaned in again to capture your lips with his own, feeling the warmth spread throughout him as the two of you surrendered to each other once more, giving in to the passion that flowed between you like a river.

His strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he moved inside of you, their bodies becoming one. The sensation of being connected in this way was exhilarating; it brought him right back to their honeymoon when everything had seemed perfect. And despite everything that had happened since then, he knew it still could be.

As he waited for her to respond, he moved over to the bed and sat down heavily on its edge, his gaze remaining fixed on her as she lay there. There was still so much they needed to talk about, but for now, he needed some time to gather his thoughts and emotions before continuing this conversation. The anger that had consumed him only moments ago had given way to a strange mixture of satisfaction and guilt; it felt like he'd crossed a line that shouldn't have been crossed, no matter how justified it might have seemed at the time.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was truly what he wanted...to keep her like this? Or would it just lead to more pain and suffering for both of them in the long run? The weight of his decision pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe as he struggled with the conflicting emotions that warred within him.

Celia remained silent, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath and regain some strength after the brutal encounter they'd just had.

His thrusts quickened at the sensation of her inner walls squeezing around him, signaling her climax. He groaned low in his throat as he felt himself growing harder again, the heady mixture of lust and possession coursing through his veins. "That's it," he growled into her ear, "come for me." With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, feeling her body shudder around him as she came apart underneath him.

His hips snapped forward roughly against her soft flesh, feeling the tightness around him as she continued to tremble beneath him. He growled low in his throat, thrusting harder and deeper into her, claiming every last drop of pleasure she had to offer. Her cries filled the room, echoing through his head as he felt himself on the brink once more.

"Cum for me," he grunted, his voice laced with lust and possessiveness, "give it all up."

His heart ached at the thought of losing her, but he knew that he couldn't just let everything go like it was nothing. "I need you to prove it," he said finally, his voice still hoarse with emotion. "Start by telling me what happened with that guy at the bar tonight."

He felt her tense up against him, and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to say anything.

His anger flared up at her hesitation, making his voice cold once more. "I'm waiting." His grip on the covers tightened as he braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"I-I met him there... I didn't know who he was," she stammered out, her voice barely audible against his skin. "He just started talking to me and we got drunk... things happened..." She trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.

His hands shake as he washes his face and tries to steady his breathing in the bathroom. The anger that had consumed him a moment ago is slowly giving way to self-loathing and guilt. He hates himself for doubting you, for losing control like this... But he can't help but feel betrayed.

When he finally emerges from the bathroom, his expression is still pained, but there's something else there too - a mixture of determination and resignation.

His eyes meet yours warily as you extend your hand towards him, pleading for some sort of connection. He hesitates for a moment before finally reaching out to take it, his own fingers trembling slightly. His grip is firm but not painful as he pulls you up onto the bed beside him, sitting down with you curled into his side. "We need to talk," he says softly, voice hoarse from emotion. "About what happened tonight... and everything leading up to it."