“You okay?” I asked, my voice rough and frayed at the edges, still caught in the wreckage of everything we’d just shared.
She didn’t answer—not with words. Just a soft, breathy sound that melted straight through me. That sound was everything. It said yes, more; I trust you, all without her having to speak. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her skin as I looked at her—really looked at her. Her chest rose and fell in slow, uneven waves. Her skin was glowing, lips parted. Beautiful. Wrecked. Mine.
“You did so good, baby,” I murmured, letting my lips brush her temple. “So fucking good.”
Her eyes fluttered open at that, and what I saw in them unraveled me all over again. She looked soft but fierce—vulnerable and completely satisfied, and still somehow hungry for more. I kissed her cheek, then her neck, slowly, reverently, like every inch of her was sacred ground I’d finally been allowed to touch. I wanted to honor her. I wanted to worship her.
“Nick…” she whispered, my name spilling from her lips like a secret she didn’t want to take back.
“Yeah?” I whispered against her throat.
“Don’t stop.”
That cracked me wide open. She said it so quietly but so sure, and God, I’d never wanted someone the way I wanted her. I shifted slightly, drawing back just enough to look into her eyes. No fear. No hesitation. Only trust—and a hint of mischief that made my chest tighten in the best way. She wasn’t just giving herself to me. She was choosing me, again and again.
So I moved. Slowly. Deeply. A rhythm born not of urgency but of awe. I kissed her—long and consuming—and whispered against her lips, “I want you to remember this.”
She clung to me, arms wrapped around my neck, hips rising to meet mine with aching precision.
“Remember that you chose this,” I said.
And as her fingers tangled in my hair and her body opened for me again, I knew—this was it. We weren’t just having sex. We were making something new. Something lasting. Something that felt like home.
I moved inside her with slow, deliberate strokes, every inch a prayer I didn’t know I’d been waiting my whole life to say. Her body welcomed me with a softness that undid me—tight and warm and impossibly perfect. The pace wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about urgency this time. It was about her. About letting every second stretch between us until it felt like the world existed only in the way her breath hitched, the way her hands roamed over my back, the way our hearts beat in sync beneath our skin.
Each thrust was deep, dragging, like I couldn’t bear to leave her even for the briefest second. And every time I sank back in, her body clung to mine like she never wanted to let go. She met me slowly, hips tilting in time, her moans soft and broken against my throat. I pressed kisses to her shoulder, to her jaw, to the spot just beneath her ear that made her tremble. The connection wasn’t just physical—it was threaded through every glance, every whispered breath, every silent promise passed between us.
I could feel it building—not the usual rush of heat and pressure, but something steadier. Deeper. Like a tide rising slow and inevitable, until I was drowning in the sheer rightness of it. My fingers laced with hers beside her head, our grip tight, grounding. Her name slipped past my lips like worship, and when she whispered mine back, I felt the earth shift beneath me.
And when release finally came, it wasn’t a blaze that burned fast and bright. It came in waves, slow and consuming. My whole body tensed as I poured myself into her, the pleasure curling through me in a way I’d never known before—low and intense and full. My toes curled, my breath caught, and for a long moment, I forgot how to do anything but feel. Not just the pleasure, but the intimacy—the trust. The way she looked at me like I was hers.
I stayed inside her, bodies still connected, heart hammering in the quiet aftermath. She wrapped herself around me, and I didn’t move—not yet. I just breathed her in. This was something I’d never be able to walk away from.
I pressed my forehead to hers, voice rough as I whispered, “You wreck me, baby.”
And I meant it.
She had.
In the best possible way.
Chapter 15
Kennedy
The morning light spilled across the sheets, golden and soft, coaxing me awake. My body ached in all the right places—slow, stretching soreness that reminded me of how fully I’d given myself to him last night. I felt it in the curve of my thighs, the tender pull of muscles I hadn’t known would remember him.
I turned my head and there he was—Nick. Fast asleep, chest bare and rising with each slow breath. One arm reached toward me, fingers just shy of my skin, like even in sleep, he couldn’t let me go. My heart gave a little stutter.
God, he looked so peaceful. Like none of the weight he carried—his name, his team, the world—existed in this room. Just him and me and the silence after the storm. I let myself stare, tracing the lines of his body with my eyes. I knew the strength in those arms, the way they’d held me steady when my world tipped sideways. And now? They looked soft. Gentle. Like they’d only ever meant to keep me safe.
I didn’t want to wake him, but I couldn’t resist leaning in, brushing a kiss to his shoulder. The scent of him—clean and warm and distinctly Nick—wrapped around me, anchoring me in a way nothing else ever had.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not performing, not pretending. Just me. And whatever came next—whether the world watched or whispered—I wasn’t running anymore.
I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, then let my lips wander up to his jaw, tasting the warmth of his skin. He stirred beneath me, a low groan slipping past his lips as he instinctively pulled me closer, his arm curling around my waist like I was something rare—something he wasn’t ready to let go of.
Our eyes met, and that lazy, crooked smile spread across his face—the kind that made my heart flutter and my whole body hum. There was something unguarded in him this morning, something softer that called to me.
