Another thrust, deeper this time, and I gasp. "Don't stop."
"Never," he rasps, voice wrecked. "Gonna give you everything. Every damn thing."
I wrap my legs tighter around him, heels digging into his ass. "Promise me."
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and fierce. "Promise what?"
"That you'll come back tonight. That we'll do this again."
His rhythm stutters for a second, then steadies, harder now. "I promise. Swear on my life. You're stuck with me, Savannah. Forever."
I clench around him on purpose, watching his jaw tighten. "Say it again."
"Forever," he growls, thrusting deep enough to make me see stars. "You're mine. I'm yours. No running. No bullshit. Just us."
My breath hitches. "I love you."
"Love you more." He kisses me hard, tongue sliding against mine. "Gonna fill you up again."
I moan into his mouth, nails scraping down his back hard enough to leave marks. "Yes. God, yes."
We tip over together this time. Quiet. Intense. My whole body locks up as I pulse around him, tight and hot, pulling him deeper like I can keep him there forever. My nails dig into his shoulders. A broken whimper escapes my throat.
He buries himself to the hilt one last time, arms shaking around me as he comes with a low, guttural groan. I feel him spill inside me, hot and endless, his hips jerking with every pulse.
We stay frozen like that for a long second, breathing ragged, hearts slamming against each other. He drops his face into my neck, lips brushing my skin. "Still mine?" he murmurs, voice rough.
I press a kiss to the center of his chest. “Always.”
He presses one more kiss to my throat, then rolls us so I'm on top again, still connected. His hands slide down to my ass, squeezing gently.
He helps me out of bed, big hands gentle on my hips as he pulls me up. My legs are still shaky from earlier, but he steadies me like it's nothing. We pad to the bathroom barefoot, tiles cool under my feet. He cranks the shower hot, steam already rolling out before we even step in.
I go first under the spray. Water pounds my shoulders, loosening everything. He steps in behind me, chest to my back, arms caging me in. He grabs the body wash, squirts some in his palm, and starts soaping me up slowly. Hands glide over my collarbone, down my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples just enough to make me suck in a breath. He doesn't push, just washes me like I'm precious cargo. I turn, take the bottle from him, and return the favor. My fingers trace the ridges of his abs, the old scars on his ribs, the fresh red lines I left on his back last night. He groans low when I drag my nails lightly down his spine.
We're quiet at first, just the water and our breathing. Then he breaks it. "You ever think about the future?" His voice is rough, still thick from sleep and sex.
I rinse soap off my chest, look up at him. "All the time lately."
He nods, hands sliding to my waist. "Kids. Do you want them someday?"
I feel heat crawl up my neck. I smile shyly, duck my head a little, then nod.
His grin splits wide, real and bright. "How many?"
I bite my lip, thinking. "Four. Start with a boy so he can protect the little ones."
He laughs, this deep happy sound I've never heard from him before. His whole face lights up, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks lighter today, like someone cut the chains he was dragging around. Happier than I've ever seen him. He pulls me in, kisses me hard under the spray, water running down our faces.
"Four it is," he says against my mouth. "Boy first. Then whatever chaos comes after."
We finish washing, rinse off, step out. He grabs towels, wraps one around me first, then himself. We dry off quickly, no lingering because the coffee smell is already calling.
In the bedroom I pull on leggings and one of his old band tees that hits mid-thigh. He yanks on gray sweats and a black tee from the drawer of clothes I keep adding to every time he leaves his dirty clothes at my place.
We head to the kitchen barefoot. I start the coffee, dark roast, strong enough to wake the dead. He fires up the stove, cracks eggs into a bowl, starts bacon sizzling in the pan.
I lean against the counter, watching him move around like he belongs here. "I want you to meet my parents."
