“Look at me,” he orders softly.
I look up, and I see love there, and it’s raw and beautiful.
It pushes me over the edge, my orgasm consuming me.
Pleasure crashes through me—hot, shaking, unstoppable—and I say his name as I come around him, body clenching tight. Cam follows with a broken sound at my throat, burying himself deep and spilling into me with a growl that vibrates through my soul.
He collapses onto me. Warm quiet settles again. His fingers lace with mine on the pillow.
And in that stillness, in the safety of his arms, I know I am loved. Deeply, truly loved.
Chapter forty-eight
Cam
Morning settles in soft and quiet, sunlight stretching across the sheets where Kate is still curled against me. Her breathing is slow and even, one knee draped over mine like she fell asleep trusting I’d still be here when she woke.
I brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Even asleep, she leans closer, her body finding mine without thought. Something in my chest eases into place.
She’s mine. And I’m hers.
When she wakes, it’s with lashes fluttering and a faint smile forming before her eyes fully open.
“Morning,” she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.
“Morning, Katie.” My thumb traces the curve of her hip, and she stretches into me, the memory of last night still between us.
We don’t rush into the day. The house is still, wrapped in that fragile space where everything feels new and settled all at once. But eventually, reality nudges in.
We have something important to do today.
By nine-thirty, the kitchen smells like cinnamon oatmeal and fresh coffee. Kate moves around in a soft T-shirt and loose shorts, hair still damp from our shower, skin glowing. I watch her pour juice into the dinosaur cup—the one Evie insists on using every morning.
She catches me staring and smiles. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You?”
She rests her fingers on the back of a chair. “I want her to hear it from us first. Before the town gets creative.”
I snort. “Smart.”
I lean in and kiss her once—slow, grounding—just as there’s a knock at the door.
“That’ll be Mom,” she says, turning toward the door.
When Kate opens the door, her mom stands smiling, Evie perched on her hip with hair wild and mismatched socks, Matilda clutched by the tail.
“Someone stayed up past bedtime,” Kate’s mom says.
Evie spots me immediately. “Cam!”
I take her gently, her small body warm against my chest, cheek tucked into my shoulder. Kate steps forward, smoothing Evie’s curls.
“Hey, baby.”
Evie beams. “Can we watch cartoons?”
“In a minute,” Kate says softly. “We want to talk to you first.”
