Conversation flowed easily as they shared childhood stories, dreams they'd had before life got complicated, small details about daily routines that somehow felt intimate and important in the soft light of his living room.
When they'd finished eating, Terry cleared away containers while Sandra curled up on the couch, watching him move around his kitchen with an expression that made his chest tight with emotion.
"Come here." She extended her hand when he returned.
Terry settled beside her, pulling her close until she was curled against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. The house was quiet around them except for the steady tick of the wall clock and the distant sound of wind through the trees.
"Sandra," he said quietly, his voice rough with everything he'd been holding back, "I need you to promise me something."
She tilted her head to look up at him, expression serious. "What?"
"Promise me you'll be more careful. What you did tonight, approaching Harrison Blackwood—" Terry's jaw clenched as he thought about all the ways that conversation could have gone wrong. "If these people feel cornered, they won't hesitate to escalate."
Sandra was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing patterns against his chest. "I can't promise to stop investigating completely. My clients are counting on me."
"I'm not asking you to stop. I'm asking you to be smart about it." Terry's hand found her chin, tilting her face up so he couldsee her eyes. "Work with me, not around me. Let me know what you're planning before you do something that could put you in danger."
"Okay," Sandra said softly. "I promise to be smarter about it. But Terry, you have to understand… I can't just sit back and let innocent people get hurt because I'm scared."
"I know." Terry's thumb brushed across her cheek, marveling at how soft her skin felt. "It's one of the things I love about you."
The words hung between them, honest and vulnerable and completely true.
"I love you, too," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of everything they'd been building together.
Terry responded by kissing her, pouring all his feelings into their connection. Sandra melted against him, her hands fisting in his shirt as the kiss deepened and became desperate and hungry and full of promise.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Terry rested his forehead against hers.
"Stay tonight," he said, the words coming out rougher than intended. "Not just because the kids are gone, but because I need you here. With me."
Sandra's smile was radiant. "I'm not going anywhere."
Later, in the quiet sanctuary of his bedroom, Terry's hands trembled slightly as he slowly unbuttoned Sandra's blouse, his eyes never leaving hers. She reached for his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons until he covered her hands with his, steadying them both.
"We have all night," he murmured against her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there.
Sandra's breath hitched as his lips found the spot where her pulse raced. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his chest, the muscles that tensed under her touch. When he lifted the fabric over his head, she couldn't helpbut admire the strength in his shoulders and the way his body told the story of a man who protected others.
Terry's reverent touch as he traced the curve of her waist made Sandra feel beautiful in a way she'd never experienced. When he lowered his head to kiss the swell of her breast above her lace bra, she arched into him, her fingers threading through his dark hair.
"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice rough with desire as his hands skimmed her sides, mapping every curve and hollow.
Their movements were unhurried, each caress deliberate and worshipful. When Terry's mouth closed over her nipple through the delicate fabric, Sandra gasped his name, her hips instinctively pressing against his. The sound seemed to undo something in him, and his hands grew bolder, more possessive.
Sandra worked at his belt with shaking fingers, her need for him overwhelming any remaining hesitation. When skin finally met skin, they both stilled for a moment, overwhelmed by the intimacy of complete trust.
Terry's touch was gentle as he explored her body, learning what made her gasp, what made her arch beneath him. Sandra responded with equal fervor, her hands and mouth discovering the places that made him groan her name like a prayer.
When he finally joined with her, they moved together with a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Sandra's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and Terry buried his face in her neck, overwhelmed by the perfection of being completely connected to her.
Every thrust was deliberate and deep, building a tension that spiraled higher with each shared breath. Sandra's nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tight within her, and when she finally shattered around him, Terry followed, her name torn from his throat as he collapsed against her.
Afterward, they lay entwined, hearts racing and skin damp with exertion. Terry pressed lazy kisses to Sandra's shoulder as she traced patterns on his chest, both of them reluctant to break the spell of intimacy surrounding them.
When Sandra fell asleep in his arms, Terry held her close and tried not to think about the threats gathering around them like storm clouds on the horizon.
But as he lay awake listening to her quiet breathing, Terry couldn't shake the image of Harrison Blackwood's calculating eyes or the panic he'd seen on Harry's face when he'd spotted Sandra in the parking lot.
