Before she can say anything, I crash my lips to hers, hard and unyielding. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a plea, a declaration, a goddamn vow. My hands tighten around her, pulling her impossibly closer, as if I can shield her from everything with just this moment. Her breath hitches against my mouth, her hands fisting in my hair, and for a second, the world falls away.
When I finally pull back, my forehead rests against hers, both of us breathing hard. Her eyes search mine, glassy and unsteady, and I know she feels it too—that magnetic pull, that terrifying certainty.
“I mean it,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, the words scraped raw from the deepest part of me. “Whatever it takes, Gale. Wherever we have to go. As long as you’re safe, nothing else matters to me.”
Her eyes soften, shimmering with something I’ve never dared to hope for. Then, in a move that’s so her—unexpected and utterly disarming—she tilts her head, her lips brushing against my jaw. “I love you,” she whispers, the words breaking something wide open in me.
Before I can respond, her hands slide down my back, pulling me closer as her hips press forward, aligning herself against me. My already-hard length meets her heat, and the simple motion sends a bolt of need through me so sharp I can barely think.
Her legs wrap around my waist, and I grip her thighs, steadying her as I push forward. The resistance is exquisite, her tight, slick heat giving way inch by inch until I’m buried completely inside her.
“Fuck,” I grit out, my head falling to her shoulder as I pause, the sensation of her surrounding me so intense it borders on overwhelming. Her nails dig into my back, and she gasps, her body arching against mine in a way that makes me lose whatever thread of control I thought I had.
“You feel . . .” I rasp, my lips finding the curve of her neck as I begin to move, slow and deliberate. “Like heaven, Gale. Like you were made for me.”
Her response is a breathless moan, her hips meeting mine as we fall into a rhythm that feels less like something we’re doing and more like something we’re becoming.
It’s not just sex. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to say but didn’t know how. It’s love and possession and the desperate, aching need to prove to her that I’ll never let her go.
“Touch me, thrust harder, make me feel,” she orders, her voice thick with need and desperation, her words igniting something primal in me.
My grip on her hips tightens as her demand echoes through me, my pulse hammering in my ears. “You want to feel, baby?” I rasp, my voice rough and low, dripping with the promise of everything I’m about to give her. “Then feel this.”
I slide my hand between us, finding her swollen clit with practiced ease, and begin circling it with just the right pressure—firm and unrelenting. At the same time, I drive into her harder, my thrusts deep and punishing, each one staking a claim she already knows is hers.
Her nails rake down my back, her gasps turning into moans, her body arching beneath mine like she’s trying to take even more of me. And fuck if I don’t want to give it to her. All of it.
“You’re mine,” I growl, my fingers working her clit faster, my movements matching the rhythm of my thrusts. “Every gasp, every moan, every inch of you belongs to me.”
Her body clenches around me, her breath catching as her climax builds, and I feel the moment she surrenders to the pleasure ripping through her. It’s like watching her come undone and putting her back together all at once—beautiful, raw, and fucking perfect.
“Say it,” I demand, my voice rough as I slow just enough to draw out every second. “Say you’re mine, Gale.”
Her head tips back, her eyes locking onto mine, glazed with ecstasy. “I’m yours,” she breathes, her voice breaking, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I’ve always been yours.”
And just like that, I’m gone. Lost in her. In us. In this moment that feels like the only thing that’s ever mattered.
ChapterThirty-Four
Ledger
You knowwhat I think is the perfect life? Me, Gale, and sex every morning before we even think about getting out of bed. Add a pot of coffee brewing in the background and maybe some bacon sizzling on the stove. Honestly, it can’t get better than that, can it?
I check on the bacon, flipping the strips with practiced ease while the coffee maker hums quietly, the first drops of caffeine promising to do their magic. The pan of eggs is coming along nicely too, scrambled just the way she likes them—soft but not runny.
And then, out of nowhere, Gale’s voice cuts through the comfortable rhythm of the kitchen, soft but clear.
“I think I’m happy,” she says.
The words stop me mid-motion. I glance up, my hand still holding the spatula, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her.
She’s leaning against the counter, her hair spilling over one shoulder in that effortless way that somehow drives me insane. There’s a mug cradled in her hands, steam curling up around her face like a scene straight out of a goddamn painting. Probably tea because she ordered more of that jasmine lavender she brought from Luna Harbor.
But it’s her expression that gets me—a softness I rarely see, mixed with something raw, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to feel this way, let alone say it out loud.
“Even with all this mess,” she continues, her lips curving into a hesitant smile, “I’m truly happy. Yes, there’s worry, but also peace. I feel safe with you.”
Safe. The word echoes in my head, sinking deep and settling somewhere I didn’t know was still so tightly wound. She feels safe. With me.
