Page 41 of I’ll Find You

His forehead rests lightly against mine, his cock pulsing and twitching at my entrance. “You don’t have to understand it yet,” he murmurs. “You just have to stop pretending you don’t feel it.”

He pushes into me, and I feel everything. He begins to move, and he doesn’t hold back. He fucks me with everything he has, raw and unrestrained. The headboard hits the wall in an uneven rhythm as my body is driven upward with every thrust. His hands find my breasts, tugging, teasing, his mouth following. Biting. Licking. Claiming. My fingers tangle in his hair, and I don’t know if I want to pull him closer or make him slow down.

He lifts my legs, pushing them back toward me, changing the angle, going deeper, and hitting that perfect place again and again until I’m unraveling, and an aching mix of need and pleasure. I start to come undone. Because the truth is, I felt it from the beginning. I’ve just been too afraid to put a name to it.

Every word settles deep inside me, uncovering something I've spent years trying to bury. I've always believed love meant surrendering control. Losing myself. But nothing about this feels like losing.

His hand rests reverently against my throat, his eyes never leaving mine as he murmurs praise, every word filled with a certainty that makes me believe him. The walls I spent years building don't shatter beneath his touch. They fall because I no longer need them. I gave them up the moment I stopped pulling away. My breath catches as pleasure builds inside me, my body tightening with every thrust. His breathing mirrors mine before he bends to capture my mouth in another searing kiss.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, and I feel too exposed. “You look at me,” I say, my voice tremulous, but my eyes locked on his as his fingers tighten slightly around my throat, constricting enough to let me breathe, my voice coming out in a whisper. “And when you touch me this way, with that control…I give it freely to you. Only ever you.” My voice falters, not from shame, but from the weight of my words that come next. “It’s not new,” I whisper. “My body already knows what to do with you. Like it’s been waiting for you to claim me.”

His breath catches slightly.

“It feels…” I hesitate as his thrust picks up, building as everything tightens and threatens to pull me under before I can finish. “It feels like I was always going to find you.” The words barely leave me before my orgasm rips through me, pulling me apart. I shudder, my head falling back as the intensity overtakes me, my vision spots, my body tightening around him as he follows. Alex’s breath tickles my skin before he bites my shoulder, prolonging my orgasm as my walls continue gripping his cock tightly as he spills inside.

After, he pulls away gently and collapses beside me, drawing me into him. My hand rests against his chest, feeling its unerring rhythm beneath my palm.

“You said I’d be damned to love you, Rose,” he murmurs, his voice soft, pulling me back to that first moment on his doorstep, when I thought he’d be nothing more than a passing encounter. He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my palm. “But this doesn’t feel like a curse, baby.” My breathing slows as sleep begins to pull me under, my body finally giving in after everything we’ve said and done. “It feels like a vow,” he says softly. And it’s the last thing I hear before sleep takes me.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Alex

Travel days always feel like a transition—leaving something behind, whether you're ready to or not. And I'm definitely not ready to leave the way things were with Rose. After finally waking up beside her, knowing we won't be doing that while we're staying with my parents feels like taking a step backward.

Texas is different from New Hampshire in every way imaginable. Nearly two thousand miles separate them, but it feels like even more than that. Different weather. Different pace. Different expectations.

The next morning, we leave for Texas, the memory of the night before still lingering between us in ways neither of us has tried to define. By the time we make it through security, Rose stays close without thinking, her hand finding mine because it belongs there now. Maybe it’s something we’ve both stopped questioning, so I don’t say anything. I just tighten my grip.

The airport is loud and crowded, people moving in every direction as if they’re the only ones with somewhere important to be, but none of it really registers. The announcements blur together, and the noise fades into the background. All I really notice is her.

“Gate’s this way,” I say, guiding us through the crowd.

She nods, staying close, but I can feel the tension in her, just under the surface. Everything she hasn’t said sits there between us, about coming home with me for the holiday, and what this means.

“You okay?” I ask.

She glances up at me, giving me a small smile. “Yeah.”

It doesn’t reach her eyes, but I let it go anyway.

We step through arrivals, and I don’t have to look long. They’re already here. My dad stands a few steps back, arms crossed, scanning the crowd with that same measured focus he always has, taking everything in at once. My mom, on the other hand, is already moving.

“Alexander,” she calls, her voice warm. It’s something I’ve missed more than I realized. Then she sees Rose. Everything about her softens.

“Rose.”

I feel it before I see it. Rose tenses beside me, her shoulders tightening just enough for me to notice, her fingers curling around mine before she lets go and braces herself, needing that second to pull herself together before stepping forward.

My mom doesn’t hesitate. She closes the space between them and pulls Rose into a hug as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and has been waiting for this.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice thick with something that sounds a lot like relief. Rose goes rigid for a split second before she melts into it. Not giving in to it fully, but enough that I notice. And my heart swells as I watch her let herself be held.

My dad steps forward next, his expression softer than it usually is, though most people wouldn’t catch it. His eyes move over Rose in that assessing way of his. It is not obvious, but thorough, making sure she’s okay without saying it out loud.

“Good to see you,” he says, pulling her into a brief hug that’s firmer than it looks.