I lower my head into the crook of her neck, kissing along it, feeling her pulse beneath my lips, strong and steady, and know without a doubt that this—here with me—is where she wants to be.
In this moment, nothing else matters—just the heat between us, the rhythmic sound of our breathing, and the wild beat of our hearts. It’s intense, consuming, yet somehow grounding all at once.
When our lovemaking reaches its peak, and we’re both close to our release, I hold her tighter, anchoring myself to her, afraid to let go.
“Oh God,” she cries out as she falls over the edge. I can feel her walls pulsating, gripping my cock, milking me until my own release takes over and I unload ropes of hot cum deep inside of her.
I kiss her softly. “I love you, Ginny.” I’ve never meant three words more in my life—without a doubt it’s truly how I feel. She doesn’t answer. I’m not sure if she feels the same, or if she’s just not ready to say it. But I don’t need to hear them because I’m confident she feels the same.
I pull out of her slowly, making my way to the bathroom, cleaning myself before heading back with a warm rag, wiping my cum off her.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, the quiet hum of contentment settling between us. I brush a strand of hair from Ginny’s face, watching as a lazy smile curls her lips. I press a lingering kiss to her forehead, knowing deep in my soul that nomatter what chaos waits outside this room, right here, in this moment, everything is exactly as it should be.
Then I hear it. Soft, warm and meaningful.
“I love you too, Carter.”
Chapter 22
Blake
Chase has been holedup in the bathroom since we got here, refusing to come out. I know he needs time to process everything. Hell, I would too if I found out the man I was with cheated on me. At first I could hear him crying and it took everything in me not to go to him, wrap him up in my arms and tell him it would be alright. That everything I said was a lie. Nothing happened.
But I couldn’t lie or keep secrets from him. I’ll never do it again.
I fucking cheated!It still hurts to admit it to myself. I know I didn’t fuck her, come inside of her. But I still did the act. Thankfully, I sobered up before completing the deed. It might be my only saving grace. When I told Carter the truth, I could see the anger in his eyes, but for some unknown reason to me, he still wants to try to help repair Chase and mine's broken relationship.
The silence is killing me.
It’s more unsettling than the crying. At least when Chase was crying, I knew he was feeling something—anger, sadness, pain.Now, there’s nothing. Just an emptiness so vast it swallows the sound of my own breathing.
I sit outside the bathroom, my back against the cold metal lockers, head tilted back, eyes staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answers to my problems. Hours have passed since he went inside, since his sobs disappeared. Any hope I had that he would walk back into the locker room and scream at me, curse me, do anything but leave me to strangle in the silence, has long disappeared.
The distance between us, though, when we are so close physically, is unbearable.
I hate myself. More than I ever had before. More than when I walked away that night instead of staying, when I betrayed the one person who ever truly mattered to me. If I had just stayed, if I had fought for us instead of running away, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are now. Maybe he wouldn’t hate me.
I knock my head against the lockers. The dull thud doing nothing to break the silence between us. He doesn’t even come out, or scream at me to fucking cut it out. He just ignores me. My hands curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. I can’t keep doing this—just waiting for him to let me in, hoping he’ll acknowledge me.
I need to take action. Show him I’m willing to fight, and maybe, just maybe, it’ll convince him to do the same.
With a deep breath, I stand up and head over to the mini-fridge. Carter thought of everything when he locked us in here—food, drinks, even disposable utensils. I grab some bread, turkey, and cheese, and make a sandwich, praying this small task can keep me from spiraling. At the last second, I pick up a bottle of water before walking into the bathroom. Walk to Chase.
Baby steps.
I hesitate in the doorway. Chase sits on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. He staresat the tiled wall in front of him, unmoving, oblivious to the world around him.
“Chase,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Nothing.
“Please, just talk to me.”
Still nothing. My chest aches, a deep, crushing weight pressing down on me.
“I’m so sorry,” I continue, my voice breaking. “Not a second goes by that I don’t regret that night. That I don’t wish I had made a different choice.” I swallow hard, blinking against the burn behind my eyes. “I love you so much.”
He doesn’t even look at me.
