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Wave after wave of pleasure washes over us both, our bodies pulsing in unison. Throughout it all, I never break eye contact, watching the play of emotions across her face—vulnerability, ecstasy, love. My hands never stop moving, caressing her sides, her face, tangling in her hair as I drop kisses across her jaw, her cheeks, whispering praise against her skin.
“So good,” I murmur, my body still trembling with aftershocks. “So fucking amazing. You’re incredible, Viv. Perfect. I’m yours.”
I collapse onto her, my muscles finally giving out after the intensity of our shared orgasm. I’m exhausted and happy. For a moment, we lie there, hearts racing against each other, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the chilly air of the cabin. Then, worried about crushing her, I roll us over so she’s draped across my chest like a living blanket. Her auburn curls tickle my chin as she nestles against me, her ear pressed right over my heart, listening to the unique rhythm that beats only for her.
“You okay?” I murmur, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare back.
She makes a contented humming sound, nuzzling deeper against me. “More than okay—a bit spent, though.”
I reach down with one arm, fumbling for the soft comforter that somehow got pushed to the bottom of the bed during our activities. With some awkward maneuvering—and Vivian’s amused giggle as I nearly dump her off me in the process—I manage to pull it up over us both. The weight of it settles around our tangled limbs, cocooning us in warmth.
The cabin is silent except for the soft crackling of the fireplace and our gradually slowing breaths. Outside, the leaves rustle faintly in the autumn wind, and the occasional hoot of an owl betrays its presence. It’s peaceful in a way that’s almost surreal, considering what happened in these woods—in this very cabin—exactly one year ago.
Vivian sighs against my chest, a sound of such pure satisfaction that it makes my heart swell. I press a kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the musk of our lovemaking.
“I love you so much, Vivian,” I tell her, the words feeling both inadequate and absolute.
I slide my hand under her chin, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. In the flickering candlelight, her eyes shine like emeralds, flecked with gold that I swear wasn’t there before she came into my life. The same eyes I’ve been dreaming about since high school, now looking at me with a love I never thought I’d deserve.
“You’re not running away from me again, Vivian Jackson,” I say, my voice low but firm. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
It’s possessive, maybe too much for most women, but Vivian isn’t most women. She knows exactly what I mean—not ownership, but belonging. Choice. Commitment. A promise I intend to keep for as long as I draw breath.
She smiles up at me, that special smile that transforms her entire face, crinkling her nose in such an adorable way—the one that’s just for me.
“Yours,” she agrees, then taps her finger against my chest, right above my heart. “Mine.”
That single word sends a warmth through me that has nothing to do with the comforter or the fireplace. I pull her closer, adjusting our bodies so we fit together like puzzle pieces meant for each other. Her curves meld against my angles, her softness complementing my hardness, creating a whole greater than its parts.
“If someone had told me a year ago that being kidnapped by a rockstar with a dark romance bucket list would lead to the best year of my life,” she muses, her fingers tracing the outline of the bicep tattoos, “I’d have said they were insane. Worse yet if they said it was Andrew Pritchard, the man I’d been crushing on for years.”
I laugh, the movement jostling her slightly. “If someone had told me that my ridiculous, completely illegal fantasy would somehow end with us fighting serial killers and then finally addressing our mutual feelings, I’d have... well, probably still gone through with it, but I’d have been very confused.”
She pinches my side playfully. “You’re lucky I didn’t press charges.”
“You wouldn’t want to see my sorry ass in prison,” I counter, running my hand through her hair. “I don’t look good in prison garments. Tried once for Halloween and I looked weird as fuck.”
We both laugh, the sound intermingling in the dim light of the cabin. It’s still strange to me how we can joke about that night—a night of terror and violence that should have traumatized us both beyond repair. Instead, it became our origin story, the fucked-up foundation for something beautiful. And on Halloween, my favorite time of the year, no less.
“Do you ever wonder...” Vivian starts, then pauses, her fingers stilling on my chest.
“Wonder what?” I prompt, brushing a curl behind her ear.
“If we had found each other again without all that craziness?” she asks, her voice suddenly serious. “If you hadn’t kidnapped me and if those killers hadn’t been in the woods... would we still have gotten together?”
I consider her question, my hand continuing its gentle movement through her hair. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I like to think we would. Twenty years is a long time to carry a torch for someone, Viv. I think we were always meant to find our way back to each other, one way or another.”
She smiles against my skin, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. “Spoken like a true romantic.”
“Damn right I am,” I agree, kissing the top of her head again.
We fall silent, content to just be together. The candles around the cabin flicker, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Moonlight peers through the window—the same window that a masked killer once tried to climb through, now framing the silver light that bathes our entwined bodies in an ethereal glow.
It strikes me suddenly how different this cabin feels now. What was once a place of terror has been reclaimed, transformed by our love into something approaching sacred. The same darkness that once terrified me now feels like a protective blanket, hiding us away from the world, keeping our little bubble of happiness safe.
“Thank you,” I whisper against her hair.
She tilts her head up, a question in her eyes.
