The second I come apart, he follows, growling against my neck, grip bruising on my hips as he drives himself deep, pulsing inside me. Every shudder, every raw sound from his throat brands me as his, the primal, unspoken claim that no one else will ever have this. Have me. I feel every throb, every surge as he empties himself, his breath hot against my skin.
"Sadie," he whispers, voice ragged. "My God, Sadie."
We stay joined for several heartbeats, both of us trembling with aftershocks. His weight presses me into the mattress, but I don't mind. The solid reality of him grounds me when everything else feels uncertain.
Eventually he lifts himself on shaky arms, brushing my tangled hair from my face. The tenderness in his eyes makes my throat tight.
"Don't move," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before carefully withdrawing from my body.
I watch as he disappears into my bathroom, then I hear water running. When he returns, he's carrying a warm washcloth anda glass of water. The care he takes cleaning between my thighs makes me blush despite the intimacy we've just shared.
"Drink," he says, handing me the water once he's finished. I obey, suddenly aware of how thirsty I am.
He disappears again briefly, returning with the soft throw blanket from my living room. He slides back into bed beside me, pulling the blanket over us both before gathering me against his chest.
I sink into him, letting his arms wrap around me, grounding me in the heat and weight of him. Every part of me aches, sated but still strung tight by the way he holds me—like he’s not just offering safety, but staking a claim. The world outside fades. All I know is his scent, his strength, his heart pounding beneath my ear. I have never belonged anywhere, to anyone, the way I do right now.
"I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper into the quiet darkness, a confession that costs me more than it should.
His arms tighten around me, lips brushing my forehead. "You won't be," he promises, the simple words carrying more weight than elaborate vows.
I believe him. Despite everything, the danger waiting for us in Oregon, Elliot's threats, the uncertainty of tomorrow, I believe Axel when he says I won't face it alone.
My eyes grow heavy as exhaustion finally claims me. The last thing I'm aware of is Axel's hand stroking gently up and down my spine, his breathing syncing with mine as we both drift toward sleep.
For this moment, wrapped in his arms with Poppy sleeping safely nearby, I am exactly where I need to be. Tomorrow will bring what it brings. But tonight, I am safe. Tonight, I am not alone.
Chapter 26
Axel
Iwake before sunrise, my body still unfamiliar with the contours of Sadie's bed. She's curled against me, her breathing deep and even, one hand tucked under her cheek.
Light filters through the blinds, painting stripes across her bare shoulders. I trace them with my eyes, careful not to touch, not to wake her. She needs the rest. Today will test us both in ways I can't fully prepare for.
My mind keeps circling back to the folder sitting on her coffee table. Evidence of Elliot's true nature, of the danger he poses. I've dealt with men like him before, men who hide behind money and charm while manipulating everyone around them. But this is different. This isn't business. This is Sadie. This is Poppy.
The baby monitor on the nightstand glows green, the soft sound of Poppy's breathing a steady reminder of what's at stake. I ease myself from the bed, careful not to disturb Sadie as I pull on my boxers. My shirt is somewhere in the living room, evidence of our desperate need for each other last night.
I pause at the doorway, looking back at Sadie's sleeping form. The fierce protectiveness that surges through me is almostfrightening in its intensity. I would burn down the world to keep them safe. Both of them.
The kitchen is small but efficient, like everything in Sadie's life. I find the coffee without searching, knowing from watching her morning routine at the café exactly how she likes it. Strong, with just a splash of cream. The ritual of measuring grounds, filling the water reservoir, hearing the first gurgle of the machine feels strangely intimate, like I'm stepping into a role I haven't earned yet.
While the coffee brews, I check the baby monitor I've brought with me to the kitchen. Poppy's still sleeping, a small lump under her blanket.
The coffee finishes brewing just as I hear a soft sound from Poppy's room through the monitor. Not crying, just the beginning stirrings of wakefulness. I pour a cup for Sadie, adding the exact amount of cream she uses at the café, and head toward Poppy's room.
She's sitting up in her crib when I enter, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. Her hair sticks up in all directions, a riot of dark curls just like her mother's.
"Good morning, sunshine," I whisper, setting the coffee mug on her dresser before approaching the crib.
She blinks at me, then breaks into a gummy.
"That's right," I say, lifting her carefully. "It's me. Let's let Mama sleep a little longer, okay?"
She babbles against my shoulder, her tiny hand patting my beard in that way that's become our ritual. I check her diaper, dry, thankfully, and carry her to the living room, grabbing a toy from her basket on the way.
This is dangerous territory. Playing house, acting like I belong here when nothing is certain. We're flying to Oregon in a few hours to face a man who wants to destroy Sadie, who mighttry to take Poppy. I have no legal claim to either of them. No right to feel this possessive, this invested.
