Tears stung my eyes. “But I ran?—”
“You survived,” he said fiercely. “You’re here. You’re alive. And you didn’t let him keep hurting you or anyone else. That takes more guts than most people’ll ever know.”
I shuddered and leaned into his hand, the heat of him chasing away the cold gnawing inside me.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air between us thickened, charged with something heavy and hot and needful.
Slowly, Beau’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, cradling me, drawing me forward.
Our mouths met, not hurried and not rough. It was slower, deeper. A promise sealed in heat and breath. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world.
Like he was savoring me, memorizing every little sound I made when he nipped at my bottom lip or when his tongue brushed lightly against mine.
I tightened my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against my mouth.
The kiss grew heavier, hungrier. I shifted in his lap, feeling every muscle flex under me, feeling just how badly he wanted me. Feeling how badly I wanted him.
When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, Beau rested his forehead against mine.
I didn’t even realize I was trembling until he ran a gentle hand down my back, soothing the quiver in me.
"You're safe," he whispered.
“I know,” I breathed, and then I kissed him like I meant it.
There was no hesitance this time. No fear. Just heat. Just him.
His hands slid under the hem of my shirt, fingers tracing the bare skin at my waist like a promise. I gasped softly into his mouth, arching into his touch.
He smelled like cinnamon and cedarwood, and I wanted to get drunk on it.
My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his flannel, but he chuckled low in his throat, helping me, shrugging it off in one fluid motion.
The sound of fabric hitting the floor, the soft rasp of his stubble against my jaw. It all blurred into sensation.
“Bedroom?” he asked, voice husky.
I nodded. My heart pounded, but not from nerves this time. From anticipation.
We moved together, Beau’s hand firmly in mine as I led him down the short hallway. My apartment wasn’t much, but right now, it felt like a sanctuary.
Once inside, Beau kissed me again, deeper this time, with a need that echoed my own. He pressed me gently against the doorframe, his body caging mine in the best way.
There was no rush, but the urgency still simmered under our skin, in our breath. He tasted like sugar and fire, and I couldn’t get enough.
Clothes vanished in quiet, heated moments. He brushed his lips down my throat. He put hand over my chest, tracing the curve of my back, the shape of my shoulders.
Every touch felt new. Every sigh, every stolen breath, sacred.
We collapsed onto the bed, limbs tangled, laughing softly when the mattress creaked like it was protesting the weight of all we were feeling.
Beau kissed his way down my chest, then back up to my lips, grounding me with his hands, his warmth. I felt open, seen. And for once, I wasn’t afraid of being known.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, eyes searching mine like I was something precious.
“So are you,” I said, stroking a hand through his hair.
He kissed me again, slower this time. Our bodies moved together like we already knew the rhythm, like we’d done this before.
