His eyes found me, dark and steady, and something shifted in his expression—relief, longing, hunger—all colliding at once.
He crossed the room without hesitation. His hand settled at my waist, firm and possessive, like it had always belonged there. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, grounding and undoing me at the same time.
“I’m home.”
I startled slightly, not because I didn’t want him there, but because even now, after everything, the sight of him still made my heart stumble.
“Welcome home,” I said softly.
He lingered, inhaling slowly, his nose brushing my hair. “God,” he murmured, voice low. “I missed you.”
Then his mouth curved faintly as he breathed in again. “I smell food,” he added. “Did you cook?”
I nodded. “You must be hungry.”
“Starving,” he exhaled, almost smiling.
We ate together, sitting across from each other like we always did. The conversation stayed light. Careful. He asked about Haille, and I told him she was still at Judy’s, that Avery would bring her home later. He nodded, visibly relieved.
After dinner, I stood and started clearing the table.
“Leave it,” he said. “I’ll help.”
“No,” I shook my head. “You go rest. I’ll wash the dishes.”
I stood at the sink, water running, plates stacked beside me. My thoughts drifted, until I felt his arms wrap around my waist from behind.
I froze for a second.
His chest pressed against my back. Warm. Solid. His lips brushed my neck, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t in any rush.
“Adrian...” I breathed—not a refusal, not an invitation.
His grip tightened slightly, as if making sure I wouldn’t pull away. His kiss lingered at my neck, deeper this time, deliberate enough to leave a mark. I closed my eyes without realizing it.
The water was still running. The dishes weren’t done. But his hands had already turned me around.
We didn’t speak again.
The walk to the bedroom felt quiet, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. When Adrian finally kissed my lips, it was deep, like he was trying to close a distance word couldn’t reach. I kissed him back, not with the ease we once had, but not with resistance either.
In the bedroom, everything unfolded like movements we’d memorized over years. Adrian was close—too close—like he needed to prove his presence, needed to feel undeniable.
I let him guide me, let his hands hold me, let his weight press down the thoughts threatening to surface.
I closed my eyes. For a moment, there was only breath and warmth—the firm press of his body against mine, the way his grip tightened and eased in a slow rhythm, skin sliding against skin as movement replaced thought. Every sensation sharpened, narrowed, until all I could feel was heat, pressure, and the steady pull that kept drawing us closer.
When it was over, he didn’t pull away. Adrian’s arm came around me, solid and possessive, pulling me fully against him.My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat still uneven beneath my ear. His hand lingered at my waist, thumb tracing slow, absent circles as if he wasn’t ready to let go.
Adrian went to shower not long after. He paused by the bed, brushing a soft kiss against my lips, before pulling away. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me alone in the bedroom, my body was still aware of where he had been.
A moment later, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
My eyes drifted toward it, almost out of habit. There had been a time when I would have reached for it without thinking—scrolling through everything like I was searching for something I couldn’t name. Back then, suspicion had slipped into my life so quietly I hadn’t even noticed when it became a part of me.
I hadn’t always been like that. But betrayal had a way of changing things.
At some point, the need to know had faded. Now, I only glanced at the screen for a second before looking away.
