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At least right now, he is. But I’ll take it because I’m tired of pretending I can live without him.

His hands move to his belt and zipper while I'm already tugging my loose sleep shorts aside, every inch of me aching to erase the distance that's existed between us for far too long.

Then he freezes.

“Shit.”

I blink at him.

“What?”

His forehead drops against mine.

“I don't have a condom.”

Shit.

I know, this wasn't supposed to happen. He came here with chicken soup and cold medicine, not plans to seduce me.

“I have an IUD.”

His gaze snaps to mine.

“Layla.”

“Please, Mitchell.”

I cup his face.

There are a hundred things we still need to talk about. A hundred pieces of trust we need to put back together. But this isn't about pretending none of that happened.

This is about wanting him anyway. Loving him anyway. Choosing him with my eyes wide open.

“I need you.”

Something in his expression breaks.

“Fuck. I need you too, Firecracker. Hold on to me.”

His hands grip my hips as he positions himself, fitting the head of his cock to my dripping entrance.

Our eyes meet.

One last question. One last chance for either of us to stop.

I don't.

Neither does he.

He fills me in one sure motion. My breath catches.

My arms tighten around his shoulders as my body stretches around the familiar fullness of him.

And just like that, something inside me settles.

Not because sex magically fixes what happened between us.

It doesn't.