The tension in her shoulders softens beneath my hands. When I feel her body finally settle, I untie her wrists. I reach up and untie the blindfold. The fabric slips away, and her eyes blink against the light before locking onto mine. I pull the skull mask off and drop it onto the workbench beside us.
She turns toward me slowly, as if she is still adjusting to being able to see again. Then her hands come up and she pulls my face down into a kiss thatlands harder than anything that has happened in the room before it. Her mouth moves against mine with a fierce urgency.
She is not hiding anymore. Not her violence. Not her need. And fuck, it turns me on even more. Seeing her stop hoping someone will save her and start hunting the ones who try to break her, my final girl is not just surviving anymore.
She is fucking lethal.
And watching her step fully into that version of herself while choosing me in the middle of it sends a dark, burning heat through my chest that only she can pull out of me.
I cup her jaw and kiss her back until she finally pulls away, her breath shaking against my lips.
“How did you get down here so fast?” she asks. “I swear I saw you in the bed.”
“I propped pillows under the covers,” I reply. “You really fell for that?”
She stares at me, eyes narrowing. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, baby, you are going to have to start checking bodies,” I sigh. “I told you.”
“Always check the bodies.” We say it in unison, the words hitting at the same time, a broken echo of the rule I drilled into her.
“That is how Amber got you with that CPR dummy,” I remind her.
She grimaces. “Yeah, please don't remind me.”
Her gaze shifts back to me, suspicion creeping into her voice.
“Wait. How did you know where I was?”
I lift my phone slightly.
“There are cameras around the house. All I have to do is check them from my phone.”
Her brows pull together. “You've been watching me on cameras?”
“I'm always watching you, Brooke.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. She shakes her head and gives my chest a light shove. “Creep.”
Her eyes drop to the floor, taking in the shredded remains of her sports bra and the torn waistband of her shorts. She lets out a rough breath that carries amusement and disbelief.
“Well, you destroyed my clothes,” she says. “How am I supposed to get upstairs like this?”
I shrug. “Wear my sweats. I will carry you up there. Travis and Beau are probably asleep, but even if they aren't, I will block the view.”
She narrows her eyes. “Then what are you going to wear?”
“Nothing,” I glance down, then rock my hips, letting my cock swing slightly as if proving the point. “I don't care if they see my dick. It's impressive.”
She laughs hard at that, the kind of laugh that loosens her shoulders and settles her back into her body. She steps into my sweats and pulls them on. They hang low on her hips and swallow her legs.
I slide my arms under her and lift her with no effort. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I shift her so her breasts stay covered pressed against my chest. Her head drops against my shoulder as I carry her to the stairs. She feels warm, soft, and calm. She feels like herself again.
I hold her closer as we move through the quiet house.
“The only person who should be in your dreams is me,” I murmur by her ear.
She presses her mouth to my throat in a slow kiss that says everything she doesn't answer out loud.
