Nothing more.
Just me.
Taking a deep breath, I looked at the man who, over the past several weeks, had stood beside me, listened to me, held me when I cried, engaged my mind to focus on other things,pushed my boundaries, and shown me more compassion than I ever thought I deserved. I searched his face for any trace of hesitation, but there was none. The raw honesty in his eyes caught me off guard, stirring something deep within me—a warmth, a sense of belonging, and an overwhelming relief that I wasn’t alone in this awful world. A shaky breath escaped me as the realization settled in. For a fleeting moment, the chaos outside these four walls faded away; there was only us, fragile but real, anchored by a single, vulnerable truth. I reached for his hand, finally letting myself feel what I had been slowly building and, in a trembling whisper, finally admitted, “Then I’m yours.”
Before I could catch my breath, he wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me from the bed with a strength that felt both familiar and new. I’d braced myself for loneliness after the devastating loss of Travis, but now, as I instinctively wrapped my legs around Rowen’s hips, I was acutely aware of the difference. His hands, firm and gentle, promised safety rather than judgment. Our gazes locked in the dim light, and the warmth in his blue eyes held stories of forgiveness and second chances. I remembered how he quietly listened as I talked, sharing wounds I thought would never heal. That memory lingered as his lips met mine in a slow, deliberate kiss; the touch of his tongue with mine was more than desire—it was the building of trust, a hope that maybe this time, love wouldn’t slip away.
I surrendered to the moment, letting my hand drift into the back of his hair, needing the closeness that had once seemed impossible. The scratch of his stubbled cheek was a tender reminder of every vulnerable conversation, every apology and promise that had brought me here. His scent—clean, familiar—carried echoes of shared laughter and possible memories on the horizon. For the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to hope that I could be fully known and still loved.
Yet beneath the comfort, a tremor of fear lingered:What if I’m not enough, or if this happiness proves fleeting?
I wanted to believe in possibility, but couldn’t quite silence the doubts shaped by heartbreak.
His heartbeat thudded against my chest, grounding me in the present, reminding me of everything at stake. I felt the heat of his desire, a silent affirmation that I mattered—something I’d wondered about ever since the day my brother rescued me from my torment. Now, in this fragile space between past pain and new beginnings, all I could think was how much courage it took—to let someone in again, to risk being shattered or saved.
Suddenly, he pressed me gently against the wall—a move that startled and exhilarated me. His gaze searched mine, open and vulnerable, and his voice was low, trembling with sincerity. “Make damn sure you want this, because once we do this, there is no going back. I don’t believe in divorce.” His words cut through my haze, forcing me to confront my truth. I was carrying scars, a longing for permanence, to be picked first, to matter to someone solely because of who I was.
As he drew away, the gravity of the decision settled over me.
Was I truly ready to let myself belong to someone again, knowing that I stood to lose if it all unraveled? Yet in that moment, hope flickered—maybe this was a love worth risking everything for. My mind raced with a thousand unspoken questions, but his closeness steadied me. I reached for him, fingers sliding over the corded muscles of his arms, and felt a quiet certainty settle beneath my uncertainty. The room seemed to shrink around me—walls fading away, replaced by the pulse of anticipation and the sense that I stood on the brink of something irreversible.
Every touch, every breath, was a silent vow.
If this were a leap, I needed to be sure.
“Divorce implies marriage. Are you asking me to marry you?”
My chest rose and fell in time with his; every breath a fragile tether holding me to this possible new reality. I let my head fall back against the wall, eyes closing as his thumb traced gentle circles over my hip—a reassurance, an unspoken promise I desperately needed to believe in. With silence settling between us, I felt the weight of all my choices and realized that maybe the only way forward was to trust the moment, no matter how uncertain the future seemed.
Rowen leaned in, the space between us disappearing until all I could feel was the warmth of his breath and the sincerity shining in his gaze. “We can move slow,” he whispered, “or we can make the leap together.”
His words stirred something deep inside me—a courage I hadn’t known I possessed. I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation and something like peace. This was the beginning of something I’d almost given up on, and I was ready to step into it, fears and all.
I held my breath in anticipation as he swept his palms over the soft swell of my ass, digging his fingertips into my skin. A smile curved his mouth. “I need an answer, honey.”
We stood there, suspended in the hush, letting the promise of something real drift between us. My fingers lingered at his jawline, tracing the edge of a future I desperately wanted to believe in. Fear still fluttered in my chest, but it was no longer paralyzing—it was the kind of fear that made hope burn brighter, that made every second feel electric with possibility.
His arms encircled me, pulling me in with a tenderness that unraveled all my defenses. I let myself lean into him, letting my past rest for a moment, letting tomorrow’s worries wait. Tonight, I chose myself—chose the risk, the leap, the wild hope that maybe, just maybe, I could be whole in the arms of someone who saw every broken piece and wanted them all and whispered, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief and then overwhelming joy washing over his features. He pulled me closer, his arms a secure haven, and his lips found mine again, deeper this time, filled with a desperate, triumphant urgency. The world outside, with its shadows and dangers, ceased to exist. There was only the solid reality of his body against mine, the fierce beat of his heart mirroring the wild rhythm in my own.
Rowen’s hands moved with deliberate tenderness as he cupped my face, his touch grounding me in the gravity of the moment. His thumb traced the curve of my cheekbone, a gentle caress that sent a shiver through me. The warmth in his gaze transformed, deepening into a sapphire intensity that seemed to see right through me—exposing every secret, every fear, every hope. I felt myself drawn into his orbit, unable to look away from the spark of mischief that flickered in his eyes, the kind of wickedness that ignited something fierce inside me. His voice, velvet and commanding, resonated to the very core of my being as he murmured, “Then show me what belongs to me.” His words lingered between us, electric and heavy with promise, inviting me to step fully into the vulnerable, exhilarating truth of what we were about to share.
The air crackled with desire as he released my legs. He walked the few steps to his bed and sat, leaving me standing there, unsure what to do next. I moved forward, my already sensitized nerves soaring into high gear.
“Stop.” His tone sliced through the charged air like a command, low and unyielding, laced with a dangerous edge, sending a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched in the weighted silence that followed. I stilled, uncertainty threading through me as I tried to decipher the intent behind his firm, unwavering voice.
Then, with measured authority, he spoke again, “Take your clothes off.” His command hung between us, thick with promiseand expectation. My heart thudded in my chest as I realized the gravity of the moment, every movement now deliberate and magnified by the tension sparking in the room. “Slowly.”
I froze, my nerves sizzling as I caught my breath, but he waited, unmoving, as his deep, gravelly voice had its desirable effect. “It wasn’t a request.”
I blinked as my fingers stiffly and awkwardly dragged my soft cotton shirt from my jeans before pulling it up and over my head, letting my shirt slip from my fingers to the floor. Next went my jeans as my fingers fumbled with the zipper before sliding them down my legs. My heart raced under the lace of my now-exposed undergarments.
“Come to me.”
I stepped forward, and he lightly skimmed his fingertips up my thighs, causing my vaginal muscles to clench involuntarily. When he reached the elastic of my panties, he slid his fingers just under the edge, sliding upward and around my hip before he pulled my panties down, steadying me while I stepped out of them.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered, and I did as his finger reached up and lightly stroked my pussy. I sucked in my breath, my head falling back, and I felt rather than saw him smile in the darkness. I wanted his hands, and I could already imagine how it was going to feel when he brushed his thumbs across my throbbing clit.
