See me deeply in love

Milano approached the bed, his gaze fixed on Kiara. The sheer dress clung to her, a whisper of fabric against her skin. He saw the invitation in her posture, the almost desperate plea in her wide, dark eyes. He remembered the raw pain in them earlier, the vulnerability she’d shown. He sat down beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn't reach for her immediately, not with the same urgency that had consumed them before. Instead, he simply looked at her, trying to see past the layers of fear and hurt, past the desperate desire for acceptance that had led her to this moment.

"Kiara," he began, his voice a low rumble, "you don't have to do this. You don't have to prove anything to me."

She shifted, the transparent material parting slightly. Her gaze held his, unwavering. "But I want to, Milano. I want you to see me. Truly see me. Not just my body, but all of me. The parts that are broken, and the parts that are still trying to heal." Her voice trembled, a fragile thread in the quiet room. "I want you to love me. And if hurting you is what it takes for you to understand how much I need that, then I will."