“For a second,” he admits quietly, “I thought you might regret choosing me once the world saw everything.”
The confession slips out before he can catch it, raw enough that his eyes widen like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.
“I don’t,” I whisper immediately. “Not for a heartbeat.”
His exhale is shaky—barely—but real. A small crack in his confidence sealing itself as quickly as it appeared.
“Yeah.” He kisses my forehead. “That sounds about right.”
Lucky circles our legs, thumping his cone against our thighs in approval. Draco rests his forehead against mine, and for a moment the room feels impossibly small and safe.
“We should… figure out where we’re going next,” I say softly. “Something more permanent than a hotel room.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But whatever it is? We’ll choose it together
And we breathe—just breathe—in a quiet room above the city, the world buzzing outside, the future wide open.
And we survived.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charity
The adrenaline from the interview still hums through my veins as I pace the length of the hotel room. My phone won't stop buzzing with reactions—mostly positive, some skeptical, all of them proof that we did it. We told our story. We took control.
And I'm done being controlled.
Lucky pads past without hesitation and hops onto the second bed, his cone tapping the pillow once before he curls up and falls instantly asleep, a warm, quiet presence in the corner of the room.
Draco comes up behind me, pulls the clip from my hair allowing the silky strands to cascade down my back and I turn to face him. I catch his reflection in the mirror. He’s beautiful in the lamplight—all sharp angles and controlled strength, those dark eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
"You were incredible today," he says softly.
"Wewere incredible." I move closer, emboldened by everything we just survived. The interview. The scrutiny. Walking through those reporters with our heads high. "Draco?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm done waiting."
His breath catches. "Charity—"
"No." I close the distance between us, press my palm flat against his chest. His heart hammers beneath my hand. "We've been careful. We've been patient. We've built this slowly because I needed time to be sure." I look up at him, letting him see everything I feel. "I'm sure."
"You're still—" He swallows hard. "You've never—"
"I know what I've never done." My other hand finds his jaw, stubble rough against my palm. "And I know who I want to do it with. I want you. All of you. Tonight."
Something in his expression shifts—hunger and restraint warring in those dark eyes. "If we do this, there's no going back."
"Good." I rise on my toes, breath mingling with his. "I don't want to go back. I want to go forward. With you."
The kiss starts gentle—his lips soft against mine, tasting like the coffee we had in the taxi. But I don't want gentle. Not tonight. Tonight I want everything.
I deepen the kiss, opening my mouth to him, and feel the exact moment his control fractures. His hands slide into my hair, angling my head, and the kiss turns fierce. Demanding. Everything I've been craving.
We stumble backward toward the small kitchenette counter tucked along the hallway wall. My backside hits the edge, and he follows, pressing close, one hand braced beside me while the other cups my face like I'm something precious.
"Tell me what you want," he murmurs against my mouth.
