No more denying this.
Us, under the same sky.
And I’ll be damned if I ever let her go.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hopper
Our kiss shatters, leaving us panting, our foreheads nearly touching. But it’s not enough. She’s not enough—I need her in ways that make my head spin.
“I need you,” I confess, voice rough with need. “Need to be inside you. Need you so fucking much.”
She gasps, her hands bracing against my chest, but she’s already soft, already yielding. She’s not stopping me—not pulling away. But I don’t give her a second to hesitate.
“I need you too,” she breathes, and, fuck, that’s all it takes.
I grab her wrist, pulling her toward my room, shoving the door shut with my foot before I press her against it. The lock clicks.
Trapping us.
Securing her to me.
Then my mouth crashes back onto hers, devouring, taking. My hands slide into her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, to let me deepen the kiss, to let me own her fucking mouth the way I need to own the rest of her.
I need this.
I need her.
Need to drown out the chaos, the threats, the fucking fear that’s been clawing at me since I found that Polaroid. Since she pulled away from me. Since she made me need her more than I ever fucking should.
“Nysa,” I growl, my voice rough, frayed at the edges.
Her lips part, her breath uneven, her pupils blown wide as she stares up at me. She’s already wrecked, already unraveling—and I haven’t even touched her properly yet.
But she knows.
She knows I’m past the point of holding back.
I cage her in, my hands braced on either side of her head. Nowhere to go—not that she’s trying to run. Not this time.
“What do you want?” I murmur, lips barely a breath from hers. “Tell me, Nysa. Tell me you want this.”
She swallows, fingers twitching against my chest, but she doesn’t push me away.
“Hopper . . . I?—”
“Say it.” My voice dips lower, more demanding. My hands drag down her sides, slow, deliberate, fingers teasing the hem of the flannel shirt before gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me. “Say you fucking want me.”
Her breath hitches, her lashes fluttering. “I?—”
I slide one hand down, curling it around her thigh, lifting, pressing her against my waist. Her body arches, heat searing through her clothes, and, fuck—that’s all I need.
I grab her ass and haul her up, forcing her legs around my hips. She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, body clinging to mine like she belongs to me.
“You feel that?” I grind against her, letting her feel how hard I am. How desperate I am for her. “This is what you do to me, baby. You’ve had me fucked up for weeks. Had me dreaming about this. About you.”
Her lips part on a shaky breath. “Hopper . . .”
