He captures my lips, kissing me through the rising wave, his pace quickening just enough to match my urgency.
I feel it cresting, the tension coiling tight in my belly, and when it breaks, it is with a cry muffled against his shoulder.
My body shudders, walls pulsing around him, pulling him deeper as ecstasy washes over me.
Gunnar follows moments later, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he thrusts once, twice more, spilling inside me with hot pulses.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, holding me close as we ride out the aftershocks together, bodies trembling in unison.
We lie entwined afterward, his weight a comforting blanket over me.
Gunnar doesn't pull away.
Instead, he kisses my temple, my jaw, tracing lazy patterns on my skin with his fingertips. "Stay with me tonight," he says softly, not a demand but a plea.
I nod, my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
For the first time in years, the fear recedes, replaced by a fragile peace.
In his arms, I feel seen, wanted—not as a fleeting distraction, but as someone worth holding onto.
And as sleep tugs at my edges, I allow myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be more.
But, reality comes back slowly.
First the sound of our breathing, harsh and ragged in the quiet room.
Then the feeling of sweat cooling on my skin.
Then the weight of Gunnar's arm draped across my waist, holding me close.
Then the panic.
Oh god.
What did I just do?
This was Gunnar.
Gunnar, who's my friend.
Gunnar, who's Vail and Vanir's son.
Gunnar who I just?—
I need to leave.
Need to get out of here before this becomes something I can't take back.
Before he says something that makes it real.
Before I do something stupid like admit that this felt different.
Thathefelt different.
That for the first time in I don’t know how many years, I didn't feel worthless during sex.
I carefully extract myself from his arm, trying not to wake him.
