"I love you too." She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
I start to move, setting a rhythm that's slow and deep.
This isn't about getting off.
This is about connection.
About remembering what we used to be to each other.
About saying goodbye in the only way that matters.
Because tomorrow, I have to let her go.
Tomorrow, I have to walk away and trust that she'll come back to me.
And I don't know if I'm strong enough for that.
But tonight—tonight, she's mine.
"Harder," she gasps, her nails raking down my back. "Please, Blood. I need more."
I give her what she asks for, picking up the pace, driving into her with a force that makes the headboard slam against the wall.
She cries out, wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper.
"Yes," she moans. "Yes, just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
I couldn't stop if I wanted to.
Not when she's looking at me like that.
Not when she's saying my name like a prayer.
Not when every sound she makes tells me she's right there with me, climbing toward the edge.
"That's it, baby," I growl against her ear. "Let go. I've got you. I'll always have you."
She shatters with a scream, her whole body convulsing around me, and the feeling of her coming undone pulls me over the edge with her.
I bury myself as deep as I can go and let myself fall, spilling into her with a groan that feels like it's being torn from my very soul.
For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, trying to remember how to breathe.
I'm still inside her, neither of us willing to break the connection yet.
Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and I press kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
"Stay," she whispers. "Just a little longer."
"I'm not going anywhere."
I shift us so we're lying on our sides, facing each other, still joined.
Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her cheeks flushed, and she looks more peaceful than I've seen her in years.
"I forgot," she murmurs. "I forgot what it felt like to be loved like that."
"Get used to it." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "When you come home, I'm going to spend every day reminding you."
