When he pushes the rest of the way in, a soft whimper escapes—followed by his low groan that feels like it pulls stars from the sky.
We stay like that for a second—chests heaving, limbs tangled, everything suspended in this raw, beautiful pause.
And then I move. Just a little. A silent invitation.
He doesn’t hesitate. He moves with me, into me. And the friction—oh God, the friction—is too much and not enough all at once. My fingers grip the sheets, my mind a blur of sensation and need.
He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine, our breaths tangling.
“Rowen, please.” His name spills from my lips like a prayer—desperate, full of everything I can’t put into words.
He hears it. Feels it. And just like that, his restraint snaps.
And I give myself to him completely.
He thrusts forward again, and my breath leaves in a choked moan I don’t even try to hold back. It’s like something ancient and written into my bones clicks into place—like we were always meant to fit exactly like this.
A matching sound rips from him, low and raw. He buries his face against my neck, his lips brushing the skin there as his voice rumbles through me. “You okay, baby?”
The concern in his tone hits me harder than anything else. Even now, especially now, he’s still making sure I feel safe, seen, wanted.
I turn my head just enough for our eyes to meet, and I know without a doubt this is where I’m meant to be. “Perfect,” I whisper, and I am. Then, because I can’t help myself, I add with a little smirk, “Now make love to me like we’ve both been dreaming of.”
That wink I toss in? Yeah, it does exactly what I hope it will. I watch his restraint fray at the edges; feel it unravel with a hungry sort of reverence. His grin tilts, a little wicked, a little wild, and full of something that makes my entire body hum. Possession. Tenderness. Fire.
He tangles one hand in my hair and slides the other along my thigh, urging my leg higher until I’m wrapped completely around him—until we’re so close it’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes, and I barely get the chance to nod before he drives into me again. It’s deep, deliberate, and slow enough to make me feel every inch.
I gasp, the sound getting lost in the hard, claiming kiss he presses to my mouth.
Everything inside me tightens. My hands cling to his shoulders, and I feel the tremor of an orgasm roll through me like lightning under my skin.
“Good girl,” he growls against my lips, his movements turning rougher, more desperate. Each stroke sends sparks through me, dragging me closer to another edge with every beat of my racing heart.
Then his voice drops again—gritty and commanding, like a match being struck. “Give me another,” he grits through his teeth. “I want to feel you come apart for me one more time.”
That’s all it takes. My nails bite into his skin, my legs lock around his hips, and when he shifts just right—like he knows my body better than I do—I shatter. My back arches, a cry slipping from my throat, and I lose myself completely.
“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing me through it, catching every breathless sound I make as he finally lets go too. We fall together, trembling and tangled, wrecked in the best way possible.
“Damn, Berk,” he murmurs, sweeping a few damp strands of hair away from my face. He presses the sweetest kissto my temple like he’s trying to anchor the moment. “You undo me. Completely.”
I laugh—because it’s true and because I don’t know what else to do. It bubbles out of me, light and messy and full of something I haven’t felt in forever.
Joy.
And it hits him like a punch to the chest. I see it in the way his lips twitch up before he even knows he’s smiling. A genuine smile, the kind I haven’t seen since before life carved its edges into all of us. Since before grief wrapped its fingers around our throats. Since before the world turned cold and sharp.
But here, with his arms around me and our breaths still tangled, he softens. His grip, his stare, even the storm he always carries in his chest—it all goes quiet.
Then I do something dumb. I reach up, touch his face like I’m trying to memorize him, and kiss the tip of his nose.
And his whole world stutters.
“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” I say, my voice thick with sunshine I didn’t even know I had left. Sweet. A little sarcastic. Pure me.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts to meet my eyes again—and something shifts. Deep. Certain. Heavy in the way only love can be.
