"You're insane."
"About you? Absolutely."
I laughed, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Happy tears, overwhelmed tears, relief tears. "I still can't believe the Malatestas got wiped out in a day because of me. I'm nobody."
His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him. "That's not true."
"Eric—"
"You're everything." His voice dropped low. "To me. You're everything to me, Ivy. You always were, even when I was toostupid to fight for you. Even when I left thinking it was the right thing to do."
The tears spilled over then, tracking down my cheeks. "Don't say things like that if you don't mean them."
"I mean every word." He cupped my face, thumbs brushing away the tears. "I love you. I've loved you since the first time you made me try that ridiculous dessert place and got whipped cream on your nose. I loved you when I left, even though I was an idiot about it. And I love you now, standing in your kitchen, giving me another chance I don't deserve."
"Eric." His name came out broken.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly. "Not unless you tell me to. And even then, I'm going to make you say it three times before I believe you mean it."
I laughed through my tears, then pulled him down and kissed him.
This wasn't like the kiss at the Donati estate, public and claiming. This was private, desperate, full of four years of longing and loss and finding each other again. His hands moved from my face to my hair, tangling in the strands. Mine clutched at his shirt, trying to get him closer.
"Bedroom," I gasped against his mouth.
"Food's coming?—"
"I don't care." I kissed him again, harder. "Bedroom. Now."
He didn't need more convincing. His hands found my thighs, lifting me easily. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me down the short hallway, never breaking the kiss. He navigated my apartment like he'd memorized the layout, even though he'd only been here a handful of times.
My back hit the mattress, Eric's weight settling over me in the best way. I tugged at his shirt, needing to feel skin. He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head.
Relief made itself known when I didn't see any new wounds. Maybe a few bruises, but nothing severe given how insane today would have been.
My throat went tight. I pressed my lips to the center of his chest and the cross tattoo, feeling him shudder above me. Then I was pulling at his belt, his hands working at the buttons on my shirt. Clothes disappeared in a tangle of limbs and urgency until there was nothing between us but skin and want.
"You're sure?" he asked, even as his hand skimmed down my side, leaving heat in its wake.
"I'm sure." I pulled him down for another kiss. "I need you."
He groaned against my mouth, his control slipping. "I need you, too. God, I fucking need you."
"Show me."
And he did.
His hands traced every inch of me like he was relearning a favorite song. My hips, my ribs, the curve of my breast. His mouth followed the path his hands made, pressing kisses to my skin.
I arched into him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. He felt solid, real, mine in a way that made my chest ache. When he finally pressed inside me, we both went still for a moment, just breathing each other in.
"Ivy." My name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
Then he was moving, and I was moving with him, finding that rhythm we'd perfected years ago then revived recently.
But it was different too. Deeper somehow, weighted with everything we'd lost and found again. Every thrust felt like a promise. Every kiss tasted like second chances.
I felt the pressure building, my body tightening around him. His hand found mine, lacing our fingers together and pinning them above my head. The other gripped my hip hard enough tobruise, and I wanted it. Wanted proof tomorrow that this had been real.
