“Make love to me, sunshine,” she whispers. “Make it slow and sweet, like we’ve got forever.”
“We do, darlin’,” I breathe, dropping my forehead to hers as I push inside her sweet warmth. “I’m never leavin’ you.”
As I rock into her, I murmur against her lips that I love her, that I’m hers, that there’s nothing broken in her I wouldn’t spend my whole damn life cherishing.
And when she comes apart beneath me, whispering my name like a prayer, dragging me with her,I know.
This is it.
This is what my grandparents and parents meant when they talked about soul mates. This is what they said was worth dreaming for. Fighting for.
Living for.
Later, we’re lying in bed, the moonlight pooling through the windows and casting our skin in soft silver. Georgia’s tucked against my side, her fingers drawing lazy circles on my chest, her breath still a little uneven.
I brush my lips to her forehead and murmur, “How was that? Did I ruin you?”
She lets out a shaky laugh, then lifts my hand and presses it to the center of her chest.
“The only thing you’ve ruined is this,” she whispers, eyes locked on mine. “It used to beat a restless song. A running song.”
I freeze, watching her, the weight of those words already coiling tight in my chest.
“You once asked me why I love the music I do,” she goes on. “It’s because they’re strong women singing about surviving on their own. About never needing anyone—especially not a man. And when they sing about love? It’s always after the heartbreak. After the leaving. They sing about how to pick up the pieces, not how to keep them whole.”
She traces the line of my forearm, down to my wrist, her fingers featherlight but sure.
“I didn’t have a mom to teach me how to break or heal. Those women did. Their voices raised me. That’s the beat my heart lived by for a long time.” She swallows, her eyes shimmering in the low light. “But then you walked in. And now… now it beats for you.”
“Baby,” I whisper, the word catching in my throat.
She starts to shake her head, like she’s said too much, but I cover her hand with mine and hold it still—hold her still.
“I’m serious,” she breathes, blinking up at me. “You ruined every rule I had. Every guard I put up. And I’d let you do it again.”
I slide closer, wrapping her up in my arms like I never want to let her go—because I don’t.
“Then let me be just as clear,” I rasp. “I lived my life in numbness. On autopilot. I survived off duty and guilt and whiskey, not because I was strong, but because I didn’t know how to feel anymore. I forgot what light even looked like.”
My thumb brushes over her cheekbone, catching a stray tear.
“And then you walked in—loud and stubborn and wild as hell—and you lit a match inside me I didn’t think could ever burn again.”
She sniffles, burrows in, and I tighten my hold.
“My life used to be a long road, no destination. But now it’s broken into moments. Moments of you. You smiling. You laughing. You whispering things to Aurora like she’s your whole world. You in the kitchen with flour on your face. You asleep beside me with your hand curled on my chest. Every moment, Georgia… it’s you. It’s always been you.”
She lets out a sound between a sob and a sigh and kisses my throat. “You mean it?”
I cradle her face and tilt her chin so there’s no doubt when I say, “I love you, Georgia Soon-to-Be Archer. You’re it for me.You’re my best friend, my heart, my family. You gave me a reason to come home and someone to come home to.”
Her lips tremble. “I love you too, Kade. So much it terrifies me.”
“Don’t be scared anymore,” I whisper, voice low and thick. “I’ve got you. And I’m not lettin’ go.”
She nods, pressing a kiss to my jaw and settling into my chest like she belongs there.
And hell, maybe she always did.
