Her fingers squeeze mine, her breath hitching.
“So here’s the deal, Adams,” I say, letting the smile bloom, soft and confident.
“You and me. Always. That’s what I want. That’s what I’vealwayswanted.” My grip tightens, voice dropping lower. “I can’t promise I’ll always say the right thing. Or that I won’t steal your fries. Or that I won’t drive you completely insane at least twice a week. Maybe more.”
She laughs, broken and beautiful, a tear slipping free.
“But I can promise this—I’ll love you. Every single day. For the restof our lives.” I nod toward the compass, my heartbeat steady now, sure in every cell of my body. “So what do you say, baby? You wanna follow North with me?”
She lets out a laugh that cracks and melts into a sob, shaking her head like she can’t believe this is real—can’t believeme.
And then?—
She launches herself at me, arms wrapping tight around my neck, burying her face against me like she never plans to let go.
“Yes,” she whispers against my ear, voice breaking with joy.
“Yes. Yes. Always yes.”
I catch her, hold her, bury my face in her hair and breathe her in.
Because this?—
This is home.
Her arms are tight around my neck, her body pressed against mine like she’s never letting go, and I never want her to.
I rise from my knee, carrying her with me, my hand cradling the back of her head as I hold her close.
She laughs against my throat, a soft, broken sound, and the world tilts under my feet, spinning around this woman, this moment.
Above the mantle, the galaxy globe I sent her spins slowly with tiny constellations drifting in glass, glowing softly in the firelight. It catches her reflection, mirrors the stars outside, and for a second, it’s like the whole universe bent just to bring us here.
The fire crackles behind us, the scent of pine and cinnamon weaving through the air. Snow drifts against the windows, the first stars pricking the sky, faint, but burning bright.
I back her toward the tree, its lights casting soft halos across the wooden floor, until we sink together onto the thick rug in front of the hearth.
The warmth of the fire kisses our skin, the glow painting her in golden shadows, and for a long, breathless moment, all I can do is look at her.
She’s so beautiful. And so mine.
Rorie’s hair spills across the rug, her sweater slipping off one bare shoulder, chest rising and falling in uneven, elegant breaths as her eyes—God, her glacial blue eyes—burn into me, fierce and unguarded.
I touch her as a man who knows he’s holding something sacred. Slow, aching strokes of my fingers down her arms, her ribs, the delicate dip of her waist. Every inch I uncover is a gift.
She helps me pull her sweater the rest of the way off, tossing it aside. The firelight illuminates her flushed skin.
She tugs at my shirt next, impatient now, a hungry sound catching in her throat when my bare chest brushes hers.
The first kiss is sweet. Gentle.
But the second is heat and desperation and want stitched into a single breath.
I settle between her thighs, the thin barrier of her leggings sliding against my jeans, friction sparking everywhere we touch.
Her hands roam my back, nails scratching lightly, sending a shudder down my spine.
“God, Rorie,” I whisper against her mouth, my voice wrecked. “You are everything.”
