“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.
“I know,” I said, brushing my thumb across her jaw. “But I can’t stop.”
She didn’t pull away. Her body pressed against mine, soft and warm through the fabric of my sweatshirt. Her pulse jumped beneath my fingers as I tipped her chin up. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” I said. “But if you don’t?—”
She surged forward and kissed me again. There wasn’t a sliver of doubt left between us. I backed her toward the bedroom slowly, giving her time to change her mind. But Scarlett didn’t hesitate. Her hands slid under the hem of my shirt, palms hot against my skin, and the feel of her touch after craving it for so long almost made my knees buckle.
The storm roared outside, but inside, the world narrowed to the quiet thump of our hearts, the scrape of my zipper coming undone, and the soft sounds of clothes falling to the floor.
She peeled my shirt off, her fingers tracing the scar that cut across my ribs. Her brows furrowed, her gaze catching on the worst of it. Even after all these years, the jagged raised line looked angry. I turned away without thinking, instinct tightening my shoulders.
“Don’t,” she said. Her hand landed on my chest, over my heart. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
Her words undid me. I caught her mouth again, a low sound escaping as I backed her toward the bed. She knelt on the edge of the mattress then pulled me down with her. The heat between us flared. There was nothing tentative, nothing shy about the way she touched me. She kissed like she fully intended on leaving a mark. And for fuck’s sake, I wanted her to.
When I slid my hand up her thigh, she arched against me, her breath catching. “Kingston…”
“Tell me what you need…”
“You. Just you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I kissed the curve of her neck. My hands moved over her like a prayer, re-memorizing the places I’d only seen in my dreams. She wasn’t the same girl I’d left behind. She was stronger and fiercer. But the way she responded to me… every sigh, every moan, every shiver… was familiar in a way that gutted me. I took my time. I wasn’t rushing this. Not with her.
When we finally came together, it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t even just love. It was everything I’d never let myself hope for… a combination of redemption, forgiveness, and something that felt a hell of a lot like coming home.
Scarlett wrapped her legs around me and held me like I was the only solid thing she could count on. I buried my face in the crook of her neck and breathed in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla and promised myself I’d never let her go.
She whispered my name like a secret, like she’d never stopped saying it even after all this time. When she shattered under me and I followed her over the edge, I swear something broke loose inside my chest. Something cold and hard and buried deep. It was hope. Real, terrifying, impossible hope.
I didn’t know what would happen in the morning. I didn’t know if she’d still look at me the same once the sun rose and the storm passed and the real world came crashing in. But for one night Scarlett Monroe was mine again. And I wasn’t letting go.
After, she laid next to me, her cheek on my chest, her breath warm and steady as it ghosted across my skin. My arm wrapped around her, my fingers splayed across her bare back, holding her like I didn’t know how to let go. Because I didn’t.
I’d pictured this moment in my mind for so long, I’d worn the edges smooth from turning it over and over again. But nothing I’d imagined had prepared me for how it felt to have her in my arms again and the way her body fit against mine. Our hearts even beat in time together, like we still moved in the same rhythm after all these years.
“I never stopped,” I said as I brushed my lips over her temple.
She didn’t move. Didn’t have to ask me what I meant.
“I tried to forget you,” I continued. “Tried to tell myself you’d be better off with someone who hadn’t done time. Someone who hadn’t been beaten until he saw stars. Someone who didn’t walk around with ghosts for company. But it never worked.”
Her fingers trailed lightly across my chest. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”
I let out a soft laugh that hurt more than it should’ve. “That’s what you said the last time I saw you, right before my mom moved us to Chicago.”
“It was true then. Still is now.”
I stared at the ceiling and let the quiet stretch between us. She wasn’t going to make this easy for me. Maybe that’s exactly what I needed… someone who saw the cracks and didn’t pretend they weren’t there. The storm still howled outside, but it felt far away now. Like the worst of it had passed and all that was left was this thick blanket of white that I wanted to burrow under and never leave.
“You should have sent the letter,” she said, her voice calm but tired. “Even if it didn’t change anything. I deserved to know the truth.”
“I know.” I swallowed hard. “I thought I’d let you go, Scarlett… but I was keeping myself in limbo.”
She tilted her face up toward mine. “What happens now?”
I didn’t have an answer, and maybe that was the most honest thing I could admit. “I don’t know. I want to say this changes everything, but we’re not the same people we were.”
Her expression didn’t soften. “You’re right. We’re not. I’m not that girl who would have followed you anywhere.”
