"I'm close," I gasp. "Don't stop."
"Never stopping." His pace increases, harder now, deeper. "Come with me, Riley. I want to feel you."
The second orgasm is stronger than the first, clenching around him as pleasure floodsthrough every nerve ending. He follows immediately, my name on his lips as he shudders above me.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Just breathes. Hearts pounding against each other, slowing gradually toward something sustainable.
"So," Aiden says eventually, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "That was..."
"If you say 'hot,' I'm actually leaving this time."
He laughs—a full-body thing that I feel everywhere we're still connected. "I was going to say 'worth the wait.'"
"That's acceptable."
"High praise from you."
He eases out carefully, and I feel the immediate loss. He disappears into the bathroom to deal with the condom, and I hear water running. When he returns, he has a warm washcloth.
"May I?"
I nod, too boneless to be self-conscious as he gently cleans me up. The gesture is unexpectedly tender, and my throat tightens at the care he's taking.
He tosses the washcloth toward the hamper—misses—then climbs back into bed and pulls me against his side. My head finds its place on his chest, his arm wraps around my waist. The room is dark except for the city lights filtering throughthe curtains. Quiet except for our breathing and the distant hum of traffic.
"Hey, Riley?"
"Mm?"
"I love you."
The words land softly, settling into a space I didn't know I'd been keeping empty. My heart stutters—fear and joy and disbelief all tangled together.
"You don't have to say it back," he adds quickly. "I just—I wanted you to know. No pressure."
I lift my head to look at him. In the dim light, I can just make out his expression—open, vulnerable, braced for rejection even as he offers me something precious.
Evidence. That's what I've always needed. Proof before belief.
But Aiden has been providing evidence for weeks now. Every meal he's cooked. Every case file he's helped me organize. Every time he's shown up without being asked, stayed without being begged, seen me at my worst and chosen to remain anyway.
All signs point to one undeniable conclusion.
"I love you too," I say, and watch his face transform with a smile that could light up every dark corner of my carefully guarded heart. "I mean, obviously. The data supports no other conclusion."
He laughs again, pulling me down for a kiss that tastes like joy. "Only you would frame a love confession as a logical deduction."
"It's how I process information."
"I know. It's one of my favorite things about you."
We settle back into comfortable silence, tangled together in his bed while the night stretches out around us. My analytical brain, usually so loud, has gone quiet for once. No evidence to process. No case to solve. Just this moment, this person, this feeling I'm finally done running from.
"Aiden?"
"Yeah?"
"I might be open to the podcast idea."
