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The words hit harder than the pace ever could. My eyes flicker up to meet his, and I know he sees it—the way I flare under the praise, the way it sinks deep and clutches at something raw in me.

I tighten my mouth around him, working my tongue with intention, swallowing him down like I was made for it. Then I slide one hand up and give his balls a sharp tug, and he groans—loud, broken, undone—before he spills down my throat.

I don’t waste a drop.

He jerks me to my feet, mouth crashing into mine with a desperate kind of hunger. I kiss him back, letting him taste what he left behind on my tongue, letting him have it all.

Then, without a word, he pulls the key from his pocket and unlocks the cuffs. The metal falls away, and I exhale as blood rushes back into my wrists. The skin is raw, angry-red where he bound me too tightly, and for a second—just a second—I see it hit him.

Regret.

Not for what we did, not for the control—but for how harsh he’d handled me. His fingers trace the marks, gentler now, reverent even. Then he leans down and presses slow, lingering kisses over each tender spot like he’s trying to take the sting back into himself.

“Now that you’ve had your fun, sit the fuck down.”

Henry looks at me, eyebrow raised. “Actually, help me brush the gravel off my knees first.”

He looks at me suspiciously as he bends down helping me brush the gravel off. Once finished I turn his hulking form towards the drivers seat; he tries to tuck himself back in his pants but I stop him. “Oh, no you don’t. Keep that cock out and sit. Now.”

He hesitates just slightly and I reach for him, trailing a hand up his neck and watch him lean into me. “You had your fun, now it’s my turn.”

“Lou—”

I press a finger to his mouth, silencing whatever smug shit he was about to say.

“My ass is probably covered in handprint bruises,” I murmur, voice low and sticky-sweet. “You fucked me with a flashlight…then made me lick it clean.”

I lean in, let my lips graze his.

“It’s my turn now.”

His gaze lingers on me a second longer before he finally nods his head, “Good, and unbutton the fucking shirt.”

I look at him—too damn big for this cramped blacked out SUV, like some wild beast trapped in a cage. Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s stupid, but I crawl right into his lap anyway.

I catch the way his throat swallows—slow, steady—and realize the man he was moments ago, all raw edges and fear for my safety, is gone. What’s left is quieter. Wounded. Fragile beneath all that steel.

Even though I want to hide it, I want him to see—the shaky part of me that needs him, that’s scared to let go but desperate to try, because I know I can’t give him up again.

His hazel eyes lock onto mine, intense and searching, like he’s trying to read every hidden fear and hope tangled beneath my skin. I let my thumb linger on his mustache, feeling the small shiver that betrays his usual calm. “I know, after everything with Evie, you’ve carried that weight alone—felt like a failure like no one else could understand. I’ve watched you shoulder it, seen the way it’s worn you down more than anything else life’s thrown at you. But you’re not a failure. Not to Maddox, not to Evie, and not to me. And ass whooping aside, I’m sorry for scaring you—not because of what I did, but because you ever had to feel that way at all.”

He brings his forehead to mind and lets out a ragged breath. “She’s fucking unstable Lou, she always has been.”

I smirk at him. “But I’m not.”

He hearty laugh vibrates against me as I straddle his lap. “No, just fucking feral.”

I smirk, but my heart’s beating like a war drum in my chest.

“Well,” I say, voice soft but sure, “you’ve always been the only one who could keep up.”

I pause, let the weight settle between us. No more hiding behind jokes or bravado.

My throat tightens as I look at him—really look—and for once, I don’t mask a damn thing. “I’m tired of always having to let you go,” I admit, voice cracking around the truth. “Because the truth is…I can’t. I never could.”

His smirk fades like smoke.

For a moment, he just stares at me—like the words punched through his ribs and left him breathless. Like he wasn’t ready to hear what he’s always needed. His jaw clenches, not in anger, but restraint. I see it in his eyes—how hard he’s fighting not to fall apart right here, not to grab me and hold on like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.