Maybe I’d give them their fifteen minutes.
Then I’d sneak in behind them—find Selene in some narrow row and sweep her right off her feet.
Literally.
If she thought I was ridiculous now, she hadn’t seen anything yet.
TWENTY-NINE
SELENE
The bedroom was steepedin golden light, the kind that only came late in the afternoon, warm and slow like honey poured over the edge of a spoon. It bled through the gauzy curtains, painting the walls in a soft glow, catching on the floorboards and the abandoned trail of clothes we hadn’t bothered to pick up.
Winnie was with her dad and I was draped across Austin’s chest, my cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his breathing, with one leg tangled with his beneath the sheets. The air smelled faintly of him—salt and cedar and whatever soap he kept in my shower now. His fingertips traced lazy circles along the small of my back, occasionally stretching wider, dragging like he didn’t want to forget I was here.
I didn’t want him to.
For a long time, neither of us said a word. The quiet wasn’t awkward or loaded. It was comfortable. Sacred. I could still feel the echo of his mouth on mine, the press of his body, the way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to keep.
Outside, I could hear a dog bark down the street. A machine buzzed in the distance. Life was still happening beyond this room, but inside, time had slowed to something languid and lovely.
“If we take a nap, are you going to steal all the covers,” he said eventually, voice still thick with sleep and sex, “or just most of them?”
I smiled, barely lifting my head to glance up at him. “Depends. Are you planning to hog all the pillows again?”
He scoffed. “I’m a man of comfort. I require at least three.”
“Diva.” I snorted. “You use one. The other two are just for decoration.”
He grinned, and I couldn’t help myself—I leaned up and kissed him, slow and soft, right at the corner of his mouth. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for more. It simply promised that I was still here.
I settled back against his chest, my hand tracing the faint lines of the tattoos that trailed down his forearm, disappearing beneath the edge of the sheet. Everything about him felt solid and safe.
His body. His presence. His heart.
I wasn’t scared. Not right now and not with him.
Not anymore.
For once, the future didn’t feel like something I needed to outmaneuver. It felt like something I could actually want and look forward to.
I pressed a kiss to his shoulder and closed my eyes.
After a stretch of silence, he shifted beneath me. “You know this thing with us?”
I lifted my chin, met his gaze. “Yeah?”
His eyes held mine. “It’s not just a thing.”
The air left my lungs in a quiet breath. I didn’t smile. I didn’t tease. I just nodded, letting my hand rest over his heart.
“I know,” I whispered.
Austin shifted beneath me, brushing my hair off my shoulder as he leaned in, lips close to my ear. “So what’ll it be?” hemurmured, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “A nap? Round two? Or ... hear me out—both?”
I snorted, eyes still closed, too comfortable to move. “Are those my only options?”
He pretended to think. “I mean, there’s also late lunch. Or a motorcycle ride. We could probably manage both of those things if you’re up for it.”
