The leather slides around my throat, warm from his hands, supple and smooth where the old guard was stiff and scratchy. He secures it with care, his fingers lingering on the clasp, checking to ensure it sits without chafing.
It settles on my skin, familiar yet new. Not a collar of ownership, but more like an engagement.
“There,” he says with satisfaction. “Back where it belongs.”
His hands settle on my hips, turning me around.One palm slides up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his. “Now you’re mine again.”
The possessiveness should bristle, should trigger my instinct to pull away. Instead, I lean into his touch, allowing the connection I’ve been fighting for months.
His lips find mine, gentle at first, then more urgent as his fingers dig into the small of my back, backing me up to the same kitchen counter where he first barged into my life.
I gasp as he lifts me onto the cool surface, the same as the first morning we came together in frantic desire, rushing with the fear of being caught.
My body remembers, thighs parting as he steps between them, his tongue hot and insistent, tasting of coffee and the vow of our future together.
“You better be packing and not making out!” Lena shouts from down the hall. “We’re leaving in two hours, remember?”
Rowan groans into my mouth, breaking the kiss. Before he can respond, a dull thud sounds from the other side of the wall as Mrs. Kapoor bangs her wooden spoon against it in her preferred method of communicating displeasure with our noise level.
“Keep it down in there!” Her muffled shoutcarries through the thin wall. “Some of us are trying to enjoy our morning tea!”
With a frustrated sigh, Rowan’s hands slide from my body. “We’re getting out of this place.”
Without waiting for a response, he strides to my bedroom.
I hop off the counter and follow to find him pulling open dresser drawers, piling clothes onto the bed.
I lean on the door and cross my arms. “What are you doing?”
“We’ll tie the sheet around the whole lot. No need to put your belongings in trash bags.”
My brows arch. “Well, that’s very clever of you. And who will be carrying this giant bundle?”
“I will.” Rowan dumps an entire dresser drawer onto the bed. “The sooner we get your things packed, the sooner we can leave this place behind.”
Laughing, I join him, picking up a pair of socks that had rolled off the side of the bed and adding them to the pile. Working together, we empty drawers with surprising speed. His hands brush mine as we pass items between us, each touch a reminder of this new reality we’re building.
Watching Rowan gather my meager belongings, I realize that for the first time, the future is no longer agoal I have to fight toward alone. The thought settles inside me, unfamiliar but welcome.
When Rowan knocks the dresser into the wall, the neighbor pounds on it again, but this time, I don’t flinch. We won’t be here to hear her complaints tomorrow.
We are going home.
EPILOGUE
ROWAN
Soft yellow lights from my office spills into the hallway, and I pause at the threshold, taking in the sight of Ash hunched over my desk. His shoulders curve forward in concentration, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he scribbles numbers onto a legal pad.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I take a moment to admire the way his dark lashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones and how his teeth worry at his plush bottom lip when he concentrates.
Even now that he’s mine, the same magnetic pull draws me toward the burning strength within him, just as it did when he first caught my attention across a crowded diner and made me want to know the man beneath the wariness.
The club hums with the muted thrum of late-night business, bass notes vibrating through the floorboards and up my legs. This time of night, Ghost handles the front, leaving me free to check security logs and plan tomorrow’s operations. I hadn’t expected to find Ash here, especially not surrounded by schoolwork.
I step inside, my shoes whispering across the hardwood. The secure tablet rests on my desk, screen illuminated with graphs and formulas instead of the usual surveillance feeds or contracts. Coffee lingers in the air, a half-empty mug cooling beside Ash’s elbow.
“What am I looking at?” I lean on the desk, close enough for our bodies to share heat without touching.
