And she does.
Her body arches, her pussy squeezing me so tight I thought I will fucking die, and she screams my name as she comes, her orgasm shaking her like a fucking earthquake.
I follow her over the edge, my cock pulsing, emptying inside her, filling her with everything I have.
We collapse together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, our hearts pounding in sync. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, and I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her scent, her essence.
"Zach," she whispers, her voice soft, sleepy, "I love you."
"I love you too, baby," I murmur, holding her close, never wanting to let go.
And in that moment, I know I will do anything—anything—to keep her safe, to keep her mine.
We're just lying in my bed, snuggling.
Caroline's wearing my hoodie, her legs tangled with mine under the blanket, and I've got one arm draped around her shoulders. Neither of us feels like moving.
She shifts a little, sliding her hand over my chest until our fingers find each other. I thread mine through hers, holding on.
"So, next week," I murmur, eyes on our joined hands, "we'll be heading back to Naples."
"You doing okay with that?"
"Yeah," I say softly. "It's never easy, but... having you there helps."
She squeezes my hand, her thumb brushing the side of mine. "I'll be right there with you."
I smile faintly, then remember something that makes me chuckle. "Oh—by the way, my mom already knows about us."
"Really?"
"Yup, apparently Sam couldn't keep her mouth shut. Again."
Caroline laughs, shaking her head. "That sounds like Sam. How did your mom take the news?"
"Mom was actually pretty ecstatic about it. Said it was only a matter of time."
"She really said that?"
"Yeah," I nod. "She's always liked you. Probably even more now."
"She's always been so sweet to me," she says softly.
"Just wait till we get there—"
My words trail off when I hear shouting outside the room. Loud. Sharp.
Caroline freezes, her eyes flicking toward the door. The music from the party downstairs is still pounding through the walls, but even with all the noise, the yelling cuts through—angry, raw, and familiar.
I frown, pushing the blanket off and sitting up.
"What the hell..."
The voice rises again—furious this time—and it hits me who it belongs to.
"Elijah," I mutter, already reaching for my shirt. I yank it over my head, heart pounding, and head for the door. Caroline's right behind me, slipping off the bed without a word.
The moment I step into the hallway, I see him—Elijah, standing at the far end, towering over someone near his doorway. His face is red, his voice booming over the muffled bass from downstairs.
