She swallowed hard, eyes shining in the dim light of the hallway.
“Show me,” she said softly.
Something inside me broke wide open.
I kissed her again — deeper, slower, my hands sliding to her hips. She melted into me, and when her fingers traced the lines of muscle under my shirt, a groan escaped me.
“Julia…” My voice was already low, strained. “Tell me to stop if—”
“I won’t,” she whispered. “I need you.”
I lifted her — her legs wrapping around my waist like we’d done it a thousand times — and carried her down the short hallway to her bedroom. The world shrank to the sound of her breath, the soft rasp of her nails on my shoulders, the warmth of her pressed to me.
When I set her down on the edge of the bed, she looked up at me with this expression that punched straight through my ribs:
Like she was letting herself fall.
And trusting me to catch her.
“Hawk,” she said softly, reaching for the hem of my shirt. “We’re home.”
I stripped the shirt over my head and tossed it aside. Her hands skimmed over the bruises on my ribs, the taped cutabove my eyebrow, and something in her eyes burned — a mixture of anger for what I’d endured and relief that I was here.
Her shirt joined mine.
Then her hands slid up my chest again.
And everything after that was slow, tender, and hungry — the kind of intimacy born from almost losing each other one too many times.
There was no rush.
No panic.
Just two people relearning how to breathe in the same rhythm.
When I finally lowered myself above her, she cupped my face with both hands.
“Let’s stay in bed for a week,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
42
Epilogue — Julia
Three months later
Copper Cove always smelled like spring — rain on damp earth, new beginnings. The kind of air that made you breathe a little deeper.
Hawk stood in my kitchen doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame, wearing jeans and a long-sleeve shirt that made him look unfairly good for a man who still claimed he didn’t know how to dress casually.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Almost.” I tucked the last report into a folder. “If my captain asks, tell him I’m out doing something noble, like preventing a crime.”
“I’ll tell him you’re doing something criminal,” Hawk said. “Running away from paperwork.”
I shot him a look. “You promised not to slander me in public.”
