"Can't be loud. My son—"
"I know." He reaches up and pulls my lower lip free with his thumb, replacing it with his own mouth. "Give me the sounds. I'll keep them."
The kiss muffles everything that follows.
I lean into him, one hand braced on his shoulder, and ride him harder. His mouth moves to my neck, my collarbone, my breast, and when his teeth graze my nipple I have to bury a moan against his hair. His hands roam my body like he's mapping it, touching everywhere: the curve of my waist, the soft weight of my ass, the small of my back, with a thoroughness that feels like worship.
Nobody has ever touched me like I was worth something.
"You're incredible," he says against my skin. "You know that? God—"
I pull back to look at his face. He's looking up at me with an expression I don't have a name for yet. Something raw and open and completely unguarded. The sheriff is gone. This is just Tom. Just a man who's been alone for too long and is looking at me like I'm the answer to something he stopped asking.
I press my forehead to his. "I've got you."
"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, you do."
One of his hands moves between us, his thumb finding exactly the right place, and whatever control I had left dissolves completely. I ride him faster, chasing the pressure building at my core, and his free hand grips my ass hard enough to leave fingerprints on my pale skin tomorrow.
Good. I want the evidence. I want proof that this was real.
"Claire." His voice drops low, urgent. "I'm close. Where—"
"Inside." The words come without hesitation. "I want to feel you."
"Come first," he says. His thumb presses harder. "Come on my cock and then I'll follow you."
It's not a request. It's not a demand either. It's somewhere in between, the voice of a man who wants to take care of me even now. Even here. I tip over the edge with my face pressed against his neck, shaking and silent, my whole body clenching around him. He holds me through every wave of it, his hand still working, drawing it out until I'm trembling and oversensitive and completely undone.
Then his hips snap up once, twice, and he groans into my hair as he comes. I feel the warmth of it, feel him pulsing inside me, and something about it: the intimacy of it, the trust of it, brings tears to my eyes that I wasn't expecting.
We stay tangled together for a long time after. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. The room is quiet except for our breathing gradually slowing, the distant sound of a car passing outside, the steady tick of a clock somewhere in the house.
His hand moves up and down my spine in long slow strokes. I cry a little. Quietly, against his shoulder. He doesn't ask why. Just holds me tighter and presses his lips to my temple.
When I finally lift my head he wipes my face with his thumb, unhurried, unbothered by the tears.
"Okay?" he asks.
"Better than okay." I search his face. "Are you?"
"I don't think I've been this okay in years, honestly."
I laugh, which surprises both of us. It sounds real. Unguarded. Like something that got unlocked tonight along with everything else.
"So, what happens now?" I ask.
He considers this seriously, like it deserves a real answer and not a deflection. "Now we figure it out. Together, if you're willing."
"I'm a mess, Tom. I have a four-year-old son who's confused and scared. I have no money and no home and no friends in this town. I have an ex who might come back with reinforcements." I pause. "I'm not exactly a great deal."
"You're the best thing that's walked into my life in four years," he says simply. "Maybe ever."
My throat tightens. "You can't know that yet."
"No," he agrees. "But I know enough. I know you cooked dinner for a stranger because you wanted to give something back. I know you protected your son through pure terror tonight without falling apart. I know you took control when you needed to feel powerful, and that took more courage than you probably realize." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "And I know that I've been eating dinner alone for four years and tonight was the first time my table felt like it was supposed to have people around it."
I press my lips together hard, fighting the fresh wave of tears.
