Her eyes locked onto mine, fierce and unyielding even as pleasure twisted through her features. She didn’t break eye contact; she met every thrust with equal intensity, pushing back against the force of my need.
I gripped the sheets beside her head so tightly my knuckles turned white. The room was filled with the sound of our bodies colliding—raw and unfiltered passion spilling into every corner. Sweat slicked our skin, mingling where we touched as if trying to fuse us together permanently.
Kennedy’s breaths came in sharp gasps now, each one matching the rhythm of our frantic movements. Her nails bit into my shoulders again—hard enough to draw blood—but it only fueled the wild firestorm inside me.
I could feel the edge approaching fast—like a cliff I was about to tumble over without any hope of stopping. My vision narrowed to just her—just this—and nothing else mattered.
“Come for me,” I demanded through gritted teeth. “Now.”
Her body tensed beneath mine as if obeying a spoken command. She shattered around me with a cry that echoed off the walls—a symphony of raw need and release that sent shockwaves through both of us.
The sight of her coming apart beneath me was enough to tip me over the edge too. With one final thrust, I buried myself deep inside her and let go—pouring everything I had into that moment until there was nothing left but ragged breaths and pounding hearts.
We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity—our bodies tangled together in a mess of sweat and sheets while we tried to catch our breath. The world outside slowly seeped back in around us—but it didn’t matter anymore.
She was here—in my arms—and no headline or whisper could ever take this away from us.
As our breathing slowed and reality crept back in like a reluctant guest at an unwanted party—I pressed a soft kiss to Kennedy’s forehead—letting my lips linger there for just a moment longer than necessary.
“You’re mine,” I whispered again—this time softer—but no less certain.
She smiled up at me—sated but still fierce—and nodded once more before closing her eyes; a silent promise hanging between us like an unbreakable vow: Always.
I held her close, her skin still warm against mine, the echo of our night together pulsing like a second heartbeat between us. The room smelled like her—champagne and cinnamon—and I wanted to drown in it, to forget the world pressing in from the outside.
But I couldn’t. The headlines were already clawing at our door.
“You can’t protect me from everyone, Nick,” she murmured, her words quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the haze. It wasn’t accusation—it was truth. And it lodged itself in my chest like a blade I couldn’t pull out.
I wanted to argue. God, I wanted to swear I’d burn the fucking world down before I let it touch her. But I couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. She was right.
And that terrified me more than anything.
I pulled back just enough to see her face, to meet that storm in her eyes that never backed down. “But no one talks about you without consequences,” I said, voice rough with the weight I couldn’t shake. “Not while I’m breathing.”
Her gaze softened, flickered, like she wanted to believe it—and part of her still did—but we both knew better. “And what if they come for you?” she asked, barely above a whisper. A crack in her armor. Vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.
The thought made my blood burn. “Then they’ll regret it.” My jaw locked tight, rage simmering beneath the words. No one touched her. No one spun their bullshit at her expense.
But even as I said it, the truth coiled inside me—tight and bitter. I could fight them, sure. But I couldn’t erase them. I couldn’t keep their poison from leaking into our lives.
My grip on her waist tightened like I could anchor us here—still, safe, untouched.
“I’ll handle them,” I said again, softer now. Not a threat. A plea. “You know how ruthless I can be.”
She looked up at me, steady and unflinching, that fire still burning behind her eyes. “Ruthlessness won’t change how they spin things.”
My throat tightened. I nodded slowly, jaw aching from how hard I was clenching it. “Maybe not,” I admitted, the words tasting like defeat. My thoughts spiraled—what if they twisted her into some scandal, some cautionary tale?
Because this wasn’t just a fling, wasn’t just a headline. This was her. And I’d go to war for her—over and over again.
Chapter 25
Kennedy
The sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows, golden and soft, catching the edges of the countertop like a promise. The scent of freshly brewed coffee curled around me, warm and familiar, anchoring me to the moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t wake up bracing for the worst. I felt… calm. Steady. Like maybe Nick and I had finally carved out something untouched—something ours.
I poured myself a mug, cradling it between my hands, and smiled without meaning to. Last night lingered in my chest—the way Nick’s fingers intertwined with mine while we swayed in the quiet, no music playing, just his breath and my heartbeat in sync. It felt like peace. It felt like home.
