"My room at the inn," he says. "We'll have privacy there. I want you in a bed where I can take my time. Where I can show you what it means when I stop holding back."
Heat floods through me. "Yes."
He grabs his skates and we head for the door. His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together.
At his truck, he pulls me close. Kisses me hard against the driver's side door. "I love you," he murmurs against my lips. "And I'm going to spend the rest of the day proving it."
"I'm holding you to that."
"Good." He opens my door. "Follow me there?"
I nod. Get in my car. Watch him climb into his truck.
As I follow him through Pine Hollow's streets, something settles in my chest. Peace. Hope. The knowledge that I fought for myself and won.
Whatever happens—Connor's reaction, the charity game, the logistics of long distance—we'll handle it. I know we will.
Because I finally chose myself. And he chose me back.
That's all that matters.
***
His bedroom is warm. I barely register the details before he's on me, backing me toward the bed with hungry kisses.
"I've been thinking about this for three days," he says against my mouth. "About all the ways I wanted to touch you."
"Touch me now." My voice comes out breathy.
He does. Strips me with hands that know exactly what they're doing. Lays me back on the bed and follows me down.
"I love you," he says, settling between my thighs. "And I'm done being careful. Done holding back."
"I don't want you to hold back." I reach up, cup his face. "I want all of you."
He searches my eyes for a long moment. Then he nods and kisses me, and it's nothing like before. It's demanding and possessive and hungry.
His hand slides down my body. Cups me through my panties. I gasp into his mouth.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Let me hear you."
His fingers slip beneath the fabric. Find me wet and ready. He groans.
"You're soaked."
"I've been thinking about this too." I arch into his touch. "About your hands on me."
He rewards me by sliding two fingers deep. I cry out, head falling back.
"That's my girl." He kisses down my throat while his fingers work me. "So responsive."
"More," I gasp.
"Not yet." He pulls his hand away and I whimper at the loss. "First I'm going to taste you."
He hooks his fingers in my panties and drags them down my legs. Then he spreads my thighs and settles between them, and when his mouth finds me, I see stars.
He doesn't hold back. Doesn't go slow or careful. He devours me until I'm writhing beneath him, hands fisted in his hair, thighs shaking.
