“Omigawd, Declan. I need you to do exactly that.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His fingers find me, slick and ready, and he groans against my neck. “So perfect for me.”
His mouth finds my center, licking and claiming my moist heat. “Please,” I beg, my voice breaking as his thumb circles my clit. “I need your cock inside me now.”
I stroke his hard length, feeling it pulse and harden beneath my trembling fingers. It throbs against my palm as I stroke his silken skin slowly, watching his eyes darken with each deliberate movement of my hand.
Finally, he positions himself, his eyes locked on mine as he pushes inside me, slow and deliberate. The stretch is exquisite, overwhelming. My nails rake down his back as he fills me completely.
“Bree.” My name is a prayer on his lips as he starts to move, each thrust deep and purposeful. “My Bree.”
Yours, I want to say, but the words dissolve into a moan as he angles his hips, hitting something devastating inside me. The calloused pad of his thumb finds my sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with just the right pressure.
“That’s it, beautiful. Let go for me.”
The tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter until I shatter, pleasure crashing through me in waves. He follows moments later, my name torn from his throat as he buries himself deep, his body shuddering against mine.
We collapse together, hearts racing, limbs tangled. His hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
“I love you too,” he whispers. “Maybe since that night at the club. Since you walked away without giving me your number. Since the moment I found you again and realized I’d been looking for you without even knowing it.”
I kiss him softly, tasting forever on his lips. “Take me to bed properly.”
He grins, that devastating smile that first caught my attention. “We’re already in bed, socialite.”
“You know what I mean, lumberjack.”
He shifts us under the covers, pulling me against his chest. Through the doorway, Ladybug’s snores continue their rhythmic soundtrack. Safe. Home. Ours.
“Stay,” he murmurs into my hair.
“Always,” I promise, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.
This is where I belong. Not in some predetermined social circle, not in the life my father planned. Here, in Declan’s arms, in this house that smells like sawdust and coffee, in this small Texas town where no one cares about which fork I use.
Here, with him, I’m finally home.
Epilogue
Six months later
Declan
The scent of sawdust and fresh-cut pine fills my lungs as I step out of my office, surveying the mill floor below. Production's running smooth today—no spills, no delays, no drama. Just the steady rhythm of machinery and the satisfying bite of blades through timber.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Austin: Ladybug ate my favorite heels. The Louboutins.
I can't help but grin.
Me: The red ones?
Austin: YES. The RED ones. Your dog has expensive taste.
Me: Our dog. And you left them on the floor.
Austin: I was getting ready for work!
