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"Five!" I cry out, my entire body shaking.

He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep and comes with a guttural groan. "Fuck, Ivy. Fuck."

He collapses beside me, both of us breathing hard. After a moment, he pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom. Then he's back, pulling me against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, his hand stroking down my back.

"Yes," I whisper. "I'm okay."

"Good." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "You were incredible. So good for me."

His hands continue their gentle path up and down my spine, soothing and grounding. "Do you need anything? Water? Food?"

"Just this," I murmur, burrowing closer. "Just you."

"You have me." His arms tighten around me. "For as long as you want me tonight."

We lie tangled together for a long time, his hands never stopping their gentle caresses. Eventually, he reaches for the blanket and pulls it over us both.

"Sleep if you need to," he says softly. "I'll be here."

I don't know what to say to that, so I just let myself feel safe in his arms, my body still humming with pleasure, my mind quiet for the first time in months.

After a while, he asks, "Tell me about your life. Not specifics—I don't need to know where you work or what your last name is. Just... tell me about you."

I hesitate, then start talking.

I tell him about feeling invisible most of my life. About being the girl who was always too much—too curvy, too quiet, too ordinary. About wanting to be wanted but never believing anyone could want me the way I am.

I tell him about loneliness. About going home to an empty apartment every night and wondering if this is all there is.

I tell him about fear. About being afraid that if I let myself want something—or someone—I'll just end up disappointed.

And he listens. He holds me and strokes my hair and listens to every word.

When I finally run out of things to say, he's quiet for a long moment.

Then he says, "You deserve to be wanted, Ivy. You deserve to be cherished. And anyone who doesn't see that is a fucking idiot."

My throat tightens, and I blink back tears. "Thank you."

"I mean it," he says quietly. "You're not too much. You're not ordinary. You're extraordinary."

He pauses, and I feel his body tense slightly.

"I wish I could tell you everything," he says finally. "But I can't. Not yet."

I frown, pulling back slightly to look at his masked face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there are things about me—about my life—that complicate this. And I don't want to hurt you by keeping secrets, but I'm not ready to risk what we have by telling the truth before you're ready to hear it."

My heart pounds. "Vanguard⁠—"

"I know," he says quietly. "I know this is supposed to be the last time. And if that's what you need, I'll respect it. But I need you to know that I don't want it to be the last time. I want more. I want to know you."

He stops, his jaw tight.

"I want you," he finishes simply.