I come with a sob, spilling over his fist, clenching around him. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep and groaning my name as he fills me up.
We collapse together, tangled and sweaty and crying and laughing all at once. He holds me so tight I can barely breathe, and I hold him back just as hard.
"I love you," he says again, mumbled against my hair.
"I love you too."
"I'm going to say it all the time now. You know that, right? I'm going to be insufferable."
"I'm counting on it."
We fall asleep like that, tangled together, both of us wearing each other's marks. His bite on my neck. My bite on his. Matching claims, matching promises.
Chapter 18
Ash
I wake up to an empty bed and the smell of coffee.
For a second, the old panic hits—sharp and bright, a spike of adrenaline that has me reaching for the gun I don't keep under my pillow anymore. He left. He's gone. I fucked it up somehow. Said the wrong thing, pushed too hard, and now—
Then I hear humming from the kitchen—some pop song I don't recognize, slightly off-key—and my whole body relaxes so fast it almost hurts.
Jason's still here. He's just making coffee.
This is going to take some getting used to. The panic response, the assumption that good things don't last. Years of losing people have trained my brain to expect the worst, and weeks of happiness isn't enough to undo that programming.
But maybe, with time, it will be.
I pull on sweats and follow the sound. He's standing at the counter in his boxers and one of my t-shirts—a faded Army Ranger shirt that hangs halfway to his knees on him. His hair's a disaster, sticking up in every direction, and there's a hickey on his collarbone that I don't remember making. Must have happened last night, somewhere between the second and third round.
He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Morning," he says without turning around. "Coffee's almost ready."
"How'd you know I was there?"
"Heard you." He taps his ear. "Shifter hearing, remember? I can hear your heartbeat from across the room. It's very loud when you first wake up." He glances over his shoulder, eyes warm. "Calmed down now, though."
Right. He probably heard the panic spike too. He doesn't mention it, doesn't make it weird—just lets me know he noticed, lets me know he understands.
I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my lips to the mark on his neck. My mark. Still dark, still healing, still the most satisfying thing I've ever put on another person.
"Morning," I murmur against his skin.
He leans back into me with a happy sigh, his whole body going soft and pliant. "Mmm. I have to go back to the bar soon. Promised Vaughn I'd help with a brake job."
"How soon?"
"Hour, maybe." He turns in my arms and loops his hands behind my neck, looking up at me with mischief in his eyes. "Why? You have plans for me?"
"Always."
I turn him and lift him onto the counter before he can react. He laughs against my mouth as I step between his legs, wrapping them around my waist.
"The coffee's going to get cold," he says, but he's already pulling at my shirt, trying to get it over my head.
"I'll make more."
