Page 59 of Hearts & Embers

I reached for her, but she caught both wrists, guiding both hands to her hips instead.

Her own top was a simple wrap and I untied it with a single, deliberate pull. It sighed open, revealing the gentle swell of her breasts, and the flat plane of her stomach.

My breath caught. I’d imagined this, but the reality was a quiet shock. The pearlescent sheen of her skin in the dim light, the confident arch of her spine as she let the garment fall had my dick thickening.

I bent forward, my mouth finding the pulse at the base of her throat. She gasped, her hands tangling in my hair. The sound, raw and wanting, unraveled the last of my restraint.

My lips traveled lower, tracing the curve of her breast before I took her nipple into my mouth. She cried out, her back bowing, pressing herself more fully against me.

We hurriedly stripped. I grabbed a condom from the pocket of my jeans and rolled it on before we stumbled toward the bed, a tangle of hungry mouths and seeking hands.

The sheets were cool against my back as she followed me down, straddling my hips. Her curls fell around our faces like a curtain, sealing us in our own world. I could feel the heat of her, the damp readiness at the apex of her thighs, pressed against my aching hardness.

“Jasper,” she breathed, my name a plea and a command on her lips.

I gripped her hips, guiding her as she rose up. For a suspended moment, she hovered there, the tip of me nudging against her entrance. Her eyes were wide, dark pools reflecting my own desperate want. Then, with a slow, controlled roll of her hips, she took me in.

The sensation was blinding—a tight, wet, perfect heat that sheathed me completely. We both shared a shuddering inhale. Her lashes fluttered as she adjusted.

“Aurora,” I groaned, the word torn from me.

She began to move. A slow, rocking grind that built into a deeper, more urgent rhythm. I thrust up to meet her, each drive drawing a sharp, sweet gasp from her throat. The room filled with the sound of our joining: skin sliding against skin, the soft creak of the bed, our ragged, mingled breaths.

I rolled us over, pinning her beneath me without breaking our connection. The new angle drew a keening moan from her. I drove into her, again and again, each stroke hitting a deeper, more resonant place. Her legs locked around my waist, her heels digging into the small of my back, pulling me deeper still.

One of my hands slid between our sweat-slicked bodies, my thumb finding the swollen, sensitive nub at her core. I circled it in time with my thrusts. Her head thrashed against the pillows.

“There…oh God, right there, Jasper, don’t stop…”

Her internal muscles began to clench around me, a rhythmic, pulsing tightness. Her climax broke over her with a shattered cry, her body arching off the bed, taut as a bowstring. The sight of her with eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure pushed me to my own edge. With a final, deep thrust, I buried myself inside her as my own release tore through me, a white-hot wave that left me trembling and spent.

For long minutes, there was only the sound of our slowing breaths. I collapsed beside her, carefully withdrawing, and gathered her against my chest. Her skin was damp, her heart still hammering against my ribs. She nuzzled into the hollow of my shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest.

The city hummed on, indifferent beyond the windows. But here, in the tangled sheets, in the scent of sex and her perfume, I knew something new and fragile had been forged. Not just a first time, but a first chapter.

Epilogue

Jasper

One Year Later

The morning of our wedding began inside an apartment that finally felt like the home Aurora and I had spent the last twelve months creating together.

Sunlight filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the South Loop while the city slowly woke beneath us. The apartment was larger than either of our previous places, and somehow it already felt as though we'd lived there forever.

Books filled nearly every available shelf, framed photographs lined sections of the walls and a collection of lesson plans occupied one corner of the dining table while my shift schedules and training notes occupied another. The combination shouldn't have worked nearly as well as it did, yet every part of the space reflected the life we had built together since the day a winter storm had thrown us into each other's paths.

For several moments I stood in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee and looking around at the evidence of that life. A photograph from a summer weekend in Lake Geneva sat beside another taken during a Christmas party at Firehouse 99. A picture from a Cubs game occupied a place of honour beside one showing Aurora laughing while Oliver attempted to steal food from an outdoor café table. Looking at those images reminded me how much had happened during the previous year. Injuries had healed, routines had returned, and somewhere between coffee shops, bookstores, and countless ordinary days, Aurora had become the centre of my world.

A knock sounded at the apartment door shortly after eight o'clock. I already knew who it would be.

When I opened the door, Cody stood outside carrying coffee and wearing an expression that suggested he had appointed himself responsible for ensuring I actually arrived at my own wedding.

"You ready?"

I stepped aside to let him enter.

"I've been ready for weeks."