“You’re quiet,” I murmur, thumb brushing her cheek.
“I’m fine,” she utters, but I don’t buy it. Her eyes dart to the side, flicking nervously toward the streetlights outside, as if the world could see her worry written across her face. “I’m just tired,” she adds, voice low.
I grip her knee, squeezing gently. “No. You’re not fine. Not when they’re doing this to you. Not when they think they can touch you.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, searching, a little afraid, a little hopeful. I swear I could break a thousand rules to protect her, and it wouldn’t even be enough. But she doesn’t need me breaking rules yet. She needs me. Needs to feel that I’m hers and hers alone.
The flat isn’t far. Just a few more turns and we’re there. But the tension in the car, thick and electric, is impossible to ignore. I reach over, my hand finding hers on the console, and I laceour fingers together. She squeezes back, and I feel the silent permission, the fire lit between us, ready to burn.
When we pull up outside, I kill the engine and turn to her. She’s already blushing, the way she always does when she knows she’s caught under my gaze. “You okay?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah,” she replies, but her voice is thinner than she thinks.
I can’t resist. My fingers slide along her jaw, tilting her head toward mine. “No. You’re not. And I’m not letting you go until you feel it. All of it. You’re safe. You’re wanted. You’re mine.”
She shivers at my words, and I can see the little spark of desire ignite behind her eyes. It hits me how much I want her, how completely I’m gone for her, how badly I need to claim her in every way possible.
The door opens, and we step inside. I barely make it past the threshold before she’s against me. Lips to mine, teeth to tongue, hands tangled in hair and hoodie strings. Her warmth presses into me, and I growl low in my throat, my hands roaming over her back, pulling her flush against me. She gasps into my mouth, and I can feel the pulse in her neck, in her chest, everywhere that meets mine. I want her here, now, all of her, and I’m not holding back.
“Callum…” she breathes, voice trembling, and it’s all I need.
I push her gently toward the couch, brushing her hair from her face as I drop down beside her, trapping her between my body and the cushions. Her fingers clutch at my shoulders, at my chest, at anything that keeps her tethered to me as I trail kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, mapping every inch. She arches, pressing closer, and I curse under my breath.
“Rose,” I murmur, “look at me.” She does, wide-eyed, lips parted. “I want you. And I’m not stopping.”
She bites her lip, trembling against me, and it’s a silent plea, permission, a demand even. I take it all, dragging her onto my lap, thighs brushing, our heat merging. Her hands curl into myhair, tugging, while I grind slowly, teasing, tasting, and claiming her. The sounds she makes, soft whines and breathy moans, are more addictive than anything in the rink. More intoxicating than the rush of scoring a goal. She’s mine, and I’m hers. It’s undeniable.
I pull her closer, pinning her hands above her head, and her breathy laugh fills the apartment. “Callum… please,” she whispers, her voice cracked and beautiful.
“Please what?” I tease, fingers tracing over the line of her ribs, teasing her, until she shivers violently.
“Everything,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. Just… don’t stop.”
I grin before dragging her fully onto me. Our clothes vanish as if they were never there. My hands, lips, and mouth worship her body. I slide inside her, slow, deliberate, every movement charged with longing. Her nails rake down my back, and her gasps are my heartbeat and rhythm, my world. She moves against me, desperate, and I can’t get enough.
When she comes, I follow seconds later, letting my face bury in her neck, breathing hard, clutching her as though if I let go, she’ll disappear. Her body trembles against mine, her heat soaked into me, and I kiss her hair, her cheek, whispering praise and possessive murmurs until we both start to calm, though the ache between our thighs lingers, raw and sweet.
She curls into me and I can feel her pulse, slow and steadying. I brush my thumb across her jaw. “Rose,” I murmur, low, “I’ve never wanted anything this badly. Ever. You’re everything.”
Her breath hitches, and I feel the vulnerability, the trust, and the way she’s given herself to me completely deep in my gut. I can’t let the world take that from her. Not Talia, not anyone.
I pull back just enough to look at her face, tracing her features with my fingers. “I mean it. I choose you. Always.Every day. And I don’t care who’s watching, who’s talking, who’s posting. You’re mine, Rose. I’m not hiding you. Not anymore.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Callum…”
“I mean it,” I repeat, voice steady, full of ownership but not possession. “I’m going to tell them all. The world will know you’re mine. That I’m with you. I’ve chosen you. And I don’t care who thinks otherwise.”
Her lips find mine again and everything clicks. This isn’t just lust anymore, it’s belonging. It’s home. It’s her and me against everything else. I hold her tighter, letting the heat settle, letting the room, the city outside, the noise of Talia, and the whispers fade away. This is us. Her heartbeat against mine. I’ll protect and fight for her. I’ll make it public. Because she’s mine, and that’s never changing.
I drag her back onto the couch after a moment, sliding my hand over hers, holding her face, letting her rest against my shoulder. “We’ll go out tomorrow, for lunch, for a walk, whatever,” I murmur. “But tonight? Tonight, it’s just us. No posts, no whispers, no Talia. Just me and every inch of you.”
She smiles, the warmth in her eyes melting me. “I don’t want anyone else,” she says.
“Good,” I whisper. “Because there’s no one else. Never will be.”
I feel the roar of the world outside fade completely. I’m not hiding her anymore. Not from the internet, not from anyone. Rose is mine, and the world can deal with it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
