“You okay, Naomi?” His voice sounds strained.
“Yes. More than okay. I want all of you. Please take me deeper. Thorne,” I whimper.
He groans, sinking deeper, and with one final thrust, he’s fully seated inside me.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. So… mine.”
I smile at him. I’ve never felt so connected to another person. Thorne is everything I’ve ever daydreamed about. But this isn’t a dream. It’s real, and it’s all mine.
He withdraws slowly, then pushes back in, setting a gentle rhythm. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure through me, and soon I’m meeting him, my hips rising to take him even deeper.
“That’s it, Naomi. Take what you need.”
The bed creaks beneath us, and the sound of his skin slapping against mine fills the room along with our increasingly desperate breathing. He hits a spot deep inside me that makes me see stars, and I clench around him.
“Right there. Oh, God, right there,” I say with a gasp.
He drives into that spot again and again, moving his thumb to my clit. I can feel another orgasm building, this one even more intense than the first.
“Thorne, I’m going to come. I’m coming. I’m coming!”
“Fuck, yes. Come for me. You’re so gorgeous. Let me feel you.”
And I do. The orgasm tears through me with such force that I scream his name, my body clamping down around him. He follows me over the edge with a hoarse shout, his hips jerking as he empties himself.
We collapse, both of us trembling and breathless. He carefully withdraws himself and pulls me against his chest.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he plants a soft kiss on my head.
“I am.”
“You know, I’m so happy you stole my Christmas tree,” he says.
I can’t help but laugh. “It was the best thing I ever did.”
He smiles. “Guess I owe Jason a thank-you after all.”
“For selling me your tree?”
“For making sure you found your way to me.”
Epilogue
Thorne
One year later
I wake up to the sound of chickens squawking outside our window.Ourwindow. A little over a year ago, I never thought I’d use that word, but here we are.
Naomi’s still asleep beside me, one hand resting on the swell of her belly. She’s six months pregnant and more beautiful than ever.
I slip out of bed without waking her and head downstairs. While I wait for the coffee to brew, I glance through the kitchen window. The December frost coats Naomi’s vegetable garden and the chicken coop I built for her. That’s right. The same woman who showed up in my life a year ago, whom I accused of tree theft, walked away from her law career and never looked back. Now she’s got chickens, a vegetable garden, and goals to add an orchard once the baby arrives.
I hear her footsteps in the hallway and look away from the window. “Awake already?”
“Baby’s awake. Apparently, she’s training for soccer.”
I wrap my arms around her as best as I can with her pregnant belly between us. “Coffee?”
