“You don’t need to ask me.”
“It’s just…” he shrugged. “I’d miss being here with you.”
“That’s an easy fix—we’ll build an office upstairs here. Or upgrade or whatever with one at home.” Home was the apartment I’d shared with Jamie, now mine and Lyric’s, the second bedroom—Jamie’s old room—was an office, games room, whatever. I never went in there, choosing to wait at the door and stare until Lyric gave in and came out to kiss me, or fuck me, whichever we had time for.
The media had devoured the story of MarcusKessler. Brilliant, unstable genius—dying in a tragic accident after“self-sabotaging”his flagship software. LyricNight, once hailed as a leap into the future, was exposed for its deep, dangerous flaws, not least targeting upright citizens like Lyric Thornwood who, they revealed, was the original creator of the system before Kessler had stolen it and bastardized it into a weapon. Every detail fell out about his connection to trafficking, his contracted hits to kill, his obsession with money, and his deranged aim to take over federal agencies and run the White House himself. Headlines flashed for weeks and the world was relieved that crisis had been averted. The Cave fed information to every outlet with a conscience, and clickbait to every media point that wasn’t.
They’d built Lyric a backstory—Killian, Jamie, and Caleb. A fabricated-but-credible life explaining his absence from the world these last few years. Reclusive genius, former MIT student, recovering from a family tragedy, now re-entering the tech scene as a consultant. Any suggestion that he’d been involved in the chaos surrounding Kessler and LyricNight had been erased; the shared name between the AI and Lyric himself was officially dismissed as nothing more than Kessler’s twisted revenge after stealing Lyric’s code. Universities were falling overthemselves to have him lecture, and major companies wanted to throw money at him to use his name. But Lyric? He loved smaller targets.
Bit by bit, contract by contract, he was dismantling what was left of KessTech.
He called it revenge in moderation.
The AI was dead. Kessler was gone. And Lyric was out of hiding and living his best life.
With me.
For some reason, he’d stayed withme. He lovedme.
Go figure.
This beautiful, sexy, bossy, stubborn as fuck man wanted me.
And I wanted him right back.
He closed the laptop with a softclickand let out a breath. Not tired. Just… settled.
“You done?” I asked, watching the way he stretched, spine curving like a cat in the sun.
“For now. Caleb wants a sandbox test on a…” He smirked. “You don’t need to know…” He did that when he realized I had no fucking idea what he was talking about, and no desire to learn. “Anyway, I shut down the conversation because I have more important things to do.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”
He slid off the tires, crossed the few feet between us, and looped his arms around my waist as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Hugging my boyfriend,” he said, pressing his cheek to my chest.
My heart kicked, stupid and loud. Didn’t matter how many times he did that—just walked into my space as if he belonged there. It still got me every time.
“I love that plan,” I murmured into his hair. “Might be my favorite so far.”
We stood there a while. No countdowns. No shadows. Him breathing steady against me. God, I loved him so much. He was my everything.
“You ever think about what’s next for us?” he asked softly.
“All the time.”
“And?”
I tilted his face up with a finger under his chin, leaned in so close I could see my reflection in his eyes. “You. Me. This place. Maybe getting a new place that doesn’t fall apart. Marry you, maybe.”
He smiled up at me. “You proposing?”
“Someday,” I said, and kissed him as a promise.
The kiss deepened fast, his fingers curling in the front of my shirt, mine slipping around his waist to hold him tighter. He tasted of heat and sun andsomething all his own, and I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.
He made a soft sound against my mouth and that was it—I lifted him, his legs wrapping around me, and set him on the edge of the workbench, tools clattering to the side. He pulled me closer until there was nothing between us but breath and need.
The kiss turned hotter, messier, and I let him steer it. He always did. That was the thing about us—we were the perfect balance of strength and submission. I knew when to lead and when to let him take the reins. And Lyric? Lyric knew how to unravel me.
