“Oh my god,” she whimpers as I start pumping my fingers in and out of her, feeling her stretch around them.
“Should I bend you over again and fuck you until you can’t stand… or fuck you slow until you’re begging me to ruin you?” I slide my fingers deeper, thumb rubbing slow, brutal circles.
She grabs the back of my neck, dragging me into another kiss—open, needy, and filthy.
“Do it,” she breathes.
“Do what?”
“All of it,” she breathes, and she reaches for my belt with fast fingers. She’s hungry and desperate.
“No.” I grab her wrists.
She blinks up at me, confused.
“Why?” She stares at me, lips parted, breathing heavy.
I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers.
“Because we’re not hiding anymore.” My hand trails down her side. “We’re not sneaking around. We’re not in a rush. No more secrets. No more shame.”
She softens, and I kiss her softly.
“I don’t want to fuck you,” I murmur against her lips, releasing her wrists.
She freezes and pulls back. Her face falls a little, like I just let the air out of her.
“No?” she asks, quiet and unsure.
I shake my head.
I lift her gently, carrying her to the bed before lowering her onto it, my body braced over hers. Her hair spills across the pillow, and she wraps her legs around me.
“No.” I brush my knuckles down her cheek. “I want to make love to you.”
She looks up at me, and I watch her lips stretch into a big smile that fills my chest with something heavy and warm.
Her hands come up and slide around my neck, pulling me down into her like gravity. She kisses me, slow and deep, softly nibbling at my bottom lip. No rush. No shame. No fear. Just us.
And for the first time since my mother walked out that door twenty years ago, I feel whole.
Epilogue
~MELODY~
Halloween night, one year later.
The music’s pounding hard enough to shake the floor. Jace’s house is packed—the team’s annual Halloween party tradition turned feral.
It’s been a year since that night. The night it all started. And since then, everything has changed.
The flower shop I dreamed about for years isn’t just an idea anymore—it’s real. Mine. I still catch myself smiling every time I turn the key in the door and smell the faint mix of roses and fresh paint.
I’m still living in Dom’s house, but not for much longer. Jace and I decided to wait until we found the right place before moving in together, and now we have—our place. There’s a room upstairs set aside for the rocking chair he built me with his own hands. Every time I look at it, I see the life we’re going to have—rocking babies to sleep, little feet running down the hallway, bedtime stories while Jace leans in the doorway, just listening.
Pennsylvania feels like another lifetime. I’m not looking back. I’ve got roots here now, ones I’m never pulling up.
This year, Jace insisted on hosting it himself. Said, “I’ll only throw the party if you wear the bunny costume again.”
