No fear.
Just us.
Us.
Together.
ChapterForty-Two
Alberto
For a moment, none of us move.
Ves is on her back beneath Callaway, flushed and open, her chest rising in uneven breaths.Callaway is still inside her, his body braced over hers, his face buried at her throat like he needs the contact to stay upright.And I’m behind him—still buried in his ass, thick and spent and pulsing with the last tremors of release—my weight draped over his back, my hands still gripping his hips like I’m the only thing holding him together.
It’s quiet now.
Not empty.Just ...full.
Vesper’s fingers twitch, then curl weakly against Callaway’s bare back, her palm splayed like she can’t bear to let go.Her breathing slows, little by little, like her body is finally deciding it’s safe to rest between us.
I lean forward and press a kiss to the back of Callaway’s neck—slow, grounding, not urgent.Then I reach around, finding one of Vesper’s hands where it rests limply against his side, and press my mouth to her knuckles.Once.Twice.Featherlight kisses to the fingers that held him, touched him, welcomed both of us.
“Easy,” I murmur, not sure if I’m saying it to her or him.“I’ve got you.”
Callaway exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours—like those three words were a thread stitching him back together.
I shift first, careful not to pull away too fast.I ease my weight off his back, slipping free from his body with a drag that makes all three of us shudder.He stays where he is, still inside her, still curved protectively over her like if he lets go too quickly, something sacred might unravel.
I reach around him and brush Vesper’s hair back from her face.
Her eyes flutter open.
She smiles—slow, sleepy, wrecked.“Hi.”
God, she’s beautiful like this.Fucked out and glowing.Like we’ve pulled the stars down and tucked them under her skin.
“You okay, babe?”I ask, brushing damp hair from her face.
She nods, her eyes barely open.“I feel ...floaty.”
Callaway presses a kiss to her cheek, his hand smoothing over her ribs.“Tell us if anything hurts.”
Her lips part like she might answer, but instead, she just exhales—content, trusting.Her legs twitch around his hips, still wide open, still clinging to the last of him inside her.
I press one more kiss to the crown of her head, then slip off the bed and head into the bathroom, body aching in the best way.I peel off the condom and toss it, wash my hands, and reach for a towel.
Then, I soak a washcloth under warm water, wring it out, grab another, and take a clean towel from the shelf.When I return, Callaway’s slowly easing out of her, his hands cradling her thighs like she might break if he moves too fast.
Her body shivers.
He kisses her chest as he pulls free, murmuring something I can’t hear, then collapses beside her, still touching her, still curled over her, like her skin is the only place he knows how to breathe.
I kneel at the edge of the bed.
“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” I whisper.
She hums, soft and blissed, one hand finding Callaway’s and the other falling limp at her side in trust.
