It’s long moments before she’s able to focus her gaze, and I hold myself in a plank position, admiring her the entire time as a sense of humility washes over me—this beautifully broken creature gave me this gift, not once, but twice.
“You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?”
“I. Brain. Ditto,” she mumbles, her lashes fanning heavily across her cheeks with one slow blink after another.
My chuckle vibrates through my body, causing our joined cum to leak out around the sides of my cock. The sensation has me hard again.
But I slip out of her and watch the white, sticky mess slide down her pussy toward her ass with a caveman-like sense of satisfaction.
My future has always been Clover. I know it with complete certainty and utter peace.
I clean her gently with a warm washcloth that she barely protests more than a low moan, then I gather her against my chest. She trembles—not from cold or fear, but from theaftermath of being so completely undone—so I pull the fucking quilt over us, and she burrows into me like I’m her lifeline.
Mental note—invest in some goddamn quilts.
“Valen?” Her voice is small. Sleepy. Vulnerable in a way that tugs at my soul.
“Yeah, Honeybee?”
“I didn’t count,” she says it like a confession. Like a miracle. “The whole time. I didn’t count once.”
My throat tightens. It’s a reminder that even during times when she should have felt completely safe, she wasn’t always.
I press my lips to her hair and hold her closer. “That’s because you were,” I whisper. “You’ll always be safe with me.”
She’s asleep within minutes, her breath evening out against my chest. But I remain awake a while longer, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders, memorizing the weight of her in my arms.
Tomorrow, we face whatever’s waiting in Peachvale. But tonight, I hold the only thing that’s ever felt like mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CLOVER
The morning sun streams through the lace curtains of the Sugar on Snow Inn, turning our tiny room into something out of a fairy tale, which is ironic, considering I spent most of my childhood dreaming of Prince Valor and happily ever afters.
Now I’m waking up in the arms of the prince himself.
Well, a prince who snores. Softly. Like a gentle chainsaw.
Valen’s arm is wrapped around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, and his morning wood is—well, that’s awake even if the rest of him hasn’t gotten the memo yet.
I’m on my left side, and my hip aches from the angle of my leg draped over the bed—one foot still reaching toward the floor—but I can’t bring myself to move yet.
Peachvale awaits with answers and probably more questions.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and Valen tightens his arm around me as I reach for it, his body already coiling with protective instincts before he’s even opened his eyes.
Relief floods my mind when I see it’s just Savvy sharing a photo of her hospital breakfast with a gagging emoji.
For one horrible second, I was back on my porch in Happiness, staring at a ribbon-wrapped box.Obsession is forever.The words crawl across my skin like spiders.
I tug the blankets up to my chin and force myself to be brave. Facing my fears is not my normal modus operandi, but here I am.
“I can feel you thinking,” Valen rumbles against my neck, his voice thick with sleep.
“I’m not thinking.” Even my fake outrage sounds scared.
“You’re thinking so loudly, I’m surprised Chief hasn’t come to check on us. That man is weirdly in tune with you.”
