Samson noticed the gesture immediately.He set his mug on the small table between us and reached over, covering my hand with his.His palm engulfed mine, calloused and warm, gentle despite its size.He didn’t speak, didn’t offer platitudes about scars fading or time healing all wounds.He simply touched, connected, present in a way that anchored me to the moment.
“They’re almost gone,” I said, turning my wrist slightly beneath his fingers.“Soon you won’t be able to see them at all.”
“Doesn’t matter if they’re visible,” Samson replied, his thumb brushing lightly over my pulse point.“What matters is that you made it through.That you’re here.”
Here.The simple word carried layers of meaning between us.Here in this place.Here with him.Here in this life I’d never imagined but was beginning to cherish.
Samson’s gaze met mine, clear and steady in the morning light.No evasion, no uncertainty -- just the direct gaze that had drawn me from the first moment.
“Now we do whatever we want,” he said, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist, thumb tracing small circles against my skin.“The club has legitimate businesses I could bring you into, if you wanted.Or you could find your own way, in town or beyond.”
“And personally?Where do we stand?”I pressed, needing to hear it, to know where he stood.
He shifted in his chair, angling his body toward mine, his knee brushing against my leg.“Fifteen years with the Kings, and I kept to myself.Built walls.Kept people at a distance.Then I found you on that road.”
The memory passed between us -- that night, that darkness, the fear and desperate hope that had brought us to this moment.
“I made a choice when I found you,” he continued.“Claimed you at the gates without knowing you, based on nothing but instinct and the need to protect.Should have scared the hell out of me, how fast I made that decision.But it didn’t.”His hand tightened slightly around mine.“Still doesn’t.”
Birds called from the trees at the compound’s edge, their morning songs rising and falling with the rhythm of his voice.In the distance, a motorcycle engine roared to life, then another, the familiar sounds becoming the backdrop to our quiet conversation.
“I’d do it again,” Samson said, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest.“Every time.Every reality.Every possibility.I’d make the same choice.”
Something tightened in my throat, hot tears pricking behind my eyes that I blinked rapidly away.His certainty, his steadiness -- qualities I’d come to rely on -- now formed the foundation for something deeper growing between us.Something I hadn’t dared name until this moment.
“I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again,” I admitted, setting my mug aside so I could turn my hand in his, our fingers twining together.“After Davis, after everything… I was just running.Surviving.Not living.”I drew a deep breath, gathering courage for words I’d never spoken to any man, words that carried risk and promise in equal measure.“I never expected you.”
The morning light caught in his eyes, turning them amber at the edges.He was patient, waiting, giving me space to find my way.
“I’m not good at this,” I said, frustration coloring my tone as emotions tangled in my chest.“At saying what I feel.At being vulnerable.He took so much from me, made me doubt every instinct, every emotion.”
“Take your time,” Samson said, his voice impossibly gentle for such a formidable man.“We’ve got plenty.”
The simple reassurance broke something loose inside me -- the last barrier, the final hesitation.I leaned forward, my free hand rising to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my palm.
“I love you,” I said, the words emerging clear and certain, surprising me with their ease once I’d found the courage to speak them.“I love who you are.Who I am with you.What we’re building.”
The smile that broke across his face transformed his features, softening the hard lines, crinkling the corners of his eyes.His hand came up to cover mine where it rested against his heart.
“I love you too,” he answered immediately, the words rumbling from deep in his chest, vibrating against my palm.No hesitation, no qualification -- just pure, unvarnished truth.“Have since before I knew your name.”
He leaned forward, closing the distance between us.His lips met mine, gentle at first, a question rather than a demand.I answered by pressing closer, my hand sliding up to his shoulder as the kiss deepened.His arm circled my waist, drawing me toward him until I rose from my chair, settling onto his lap without breaking the connection between us.His hands spanned my back, supporting, protecting, claiming in the best possible way.
When we finally separated, I rested my forehead against his, breathing the same air, my body curled against his chest.Around us, the morning continued -- birds calling from nearby trees, the scent of pine and leather and motor oil mixing with the coffee cooling in our forgotten mugs.A Prospect’s laughter carried from the garage area, followed by the clatter of tools.The compound continued its daily rhythm while something profound and permanent settled between us.
“We should go inside,” Samson suggested, his voice rougher than before, his hands steady at my waist.
I nodded against his chest, not yet ready to leave the warmth of his embrace.“In a minute,” I said, snuggling closer.“I want to remember this exactly as it is.”
His arms tightened around me, secure and gentle all at once.“We’ll have plenty more mornings,” he promised.
I believed him.
* * *
The cabin door closed behind us with a softclick, sealing us inside the space that had become our sanctuary.Samson’s hand remained at the small of my back as we moved from the entryway into the living room, his touch a steady presence I’d come to rely on.Morning light streamed through the windows, dust motes dancing in golden beams that highlighted both the cabin’s charm and its possibilities.Now that words of love had finally been spoken between us, I truly felt like this place, this house, was mine.Ours.
“We should talk about what happens next,” Samson said, echoing my earlier question as he moved toward the kitchen to refill our coffee mugs.“Practical things.”
