“Where,” I grind out.
“The man who pretends he’s all discipline,” she whispers, and drags her mouth along my jaw. “But he’s actually just… obsessed.”
My hands flex at her waist. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” she murmurs. “I missed you.”
The truth in it knocks the breath out of me.
I press my forehead to hers, fighting control like it’s a mission. “I’m right here.”
Stella’s eyes hold mine. “Show me.”
I kiss her like an answer.
Her back presses to the wall, my body braced over hers, heat building fast. The shirt slips off her shoulder more, and my gaze drops like I can’t help it.
Stella notices and grins. “You like your shirt on me.”
“I like you,” I correct, voice low. “In anything. In nothing.”
Her breath stutters.
She pulls me closer by the collar. “Then stop talking.”
Yes, ma’am.
I lift her—one smooth motion—because I can’t stand the distance anymore. Stella squeaks, startled, then wraps her legs around my waist like she was made for it.
Her laugh is breathless. “Jack!”
I carry her down the hall, her hands in my hair, her mouth finding mine over and over, little kisses that feel like she’s claiming me back.
The bedroom door is half open.
Stella’s lips brush my ear. “Dinner.”
I pause, smiling against her mouth. “It’ll survive.”
“It better,” she whispers, and bites my lower lip gently.
My control snaps another notch.
I kick the door shut behind us and set her down on the edge of the bed like she’s precious. Like she’s mine.
She looks up at me, eyes dark and warm and full of that same brave fire that made me fall in the first place.
Stella reaches for my hand and pulls me down to her. “You’re safe here too, you know.”
I still.
Because she sees it—how I hold everything tight, how I carry the weight even when the threat is gone.
She cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. “You don’t have to be on guard every second.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know how.”
“We’ll teach you,” she says softly. “Me and you. Together.”
