Every thrust, every slick slide, every little gasp—she’s completely consuming me. Her eyes catch mine, burning with fire, and I lose myself in the way she moves, the way she tastes, the way she bends for me.
I lean forward, capturing her mouth with mine, teeth and tongue, and hunger colliding. She moans against me, a sound that twists something raw and possessive inside me.
My hands roam lower, cupping her ass, lifting her slightly as she rides me, feeling the slick press of our bodies together.
Her pace accelerates, breath coming in short, ragged gasps, her hair falling around us like a curtain of heat. I match her, thrusting up, tilting, following her rhythm, feeling every nerve on fire.
Her nails rake my back as she rides me harder, each cry slicing through the room, echoing in my chest.
I grip her hips, leaning up to whisper, “You’re mine… all of you,” and she shivers, biting her lip, gasping my name.
I lose control completely, the tension snapping, and I feel her clutching me tighter, every movement pulling us both toward the edge.
Her cry becomes desperate, sweet, and tearing, and I follow, everything shattering at once—my body, my mind, my need—until we collapse together in a tangle of limbs and heat, hearts racing, breaths mingling, sweat slicking our skin.
I hold her close, fingers tracing the small of her back, forehead pressed to hers. She’s trembling against me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and wild, and I can’t stop the low chuckle that rumbles through me.
“You feel like fire,” I murmur.
“And you… you feel like home,” she whispers back, voice soft now, ragged, and I press another lingering kiss to her lips, letting the quiet aftermath stretch between us, delicious, full, endless.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Beau
Six days.
That’s how long it’s been since I last saw her. Since that night I heard her voice over the phone, sick and worried about her damn cat, and Simon rushed over before I even had the chance.
I’ve been keeping my distance, like he said we should, but I couldn’t stop myself from sending her things. Broths. Herbal teas. Fresh fruit. Little care packages I left at her door or handed off to Norah.
It was the only way I could feel useful without barging into her space.
Today, though, I finally have a free day. And nothing’s stopping me.
Levi and I push through the café doors midmorning, and the sight nearly knocks me on my ass.
The place is full. Every table taken, the hum of conversation layered over the hiss of the espresso machine and the clink of plates.
It smells like butter and sugar, coffee and cinnamon, and there she is in the middle of it all—flushed cheeks, hair tied back, flour dusting her arm.
My chest pulls tight.
She spots Levi first. I swear I see her face light up in a way that makes something sharp twist in my gut. She wipes her hands on her apron and moves toward him like she can’t help herself.
“I missed you,” she says, and then she’s on her toes, pressing her mouth to his.
I watch it happen.
The kiss, soft but certain, her fingers brushing his jaw. And instead of being jealous, I feel this low heat in my stomach because she’s ours. Mine, too.
When they part, her eyes find mine. My lips tilt, and I step in.
She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t waver. She leans right into me, lets me kiss her slow and deep.
God, I could drown in the way she tastes—warm and sweet, like she’s been saving it just for me.
When I finally pull back, my voice is rougher than I want it to be. “What the hell’s going on here, sweetheart?”
