There’s something in his eyes. A break in the wall. A man who’s finally stopped running from his own heart. And suddenly, I feel it crack inside me too—the part that was waiting, unsure, scared to hope. My chest tightens with emotion, my eyes stinging with the threat of tears I absolutely will not let fall, but it’s too late. He’s breaking my heart in the best possible way, just by standing here and meaning every word.
I swallow hard. "I missed you. Peaches missed Smokey, too. But mostly... I missed you."
He steps around the counter in one long stride and reaches for me, his hands finding my waist as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish before he can close the distance. He pulls me toward him with a kind ofdesperate gentleness, and then he kisses me—fierce and full of every emotion he's been holding back.
Oh.
It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s everything we’ve been holding back. It’s him saying all the things words couldn’t quite carry. It’s me saying, ‘I forgive you’.
My back hits the counter. His hands are on my waist. Mine are in his hair. We’re heat and hunger and something dangerously close to love—until I remember the front door is still wide open, and technically, we're still open for business.
"Wait—wait," I pant, breaking the kiss, my breath catching against his lips. "The shop’s still open. I need to... I should lock the door. And put up the closed sign. Unless you want Julie walking in on us."
He groans, pressing his forehead to mine, that sexy, lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "Right. Lock the door. Good call. Unless we want to give the town something to really gossip about."
I dart out from under his arms, cheeks flaming, and rush to the front to flip the sign and twist the lock. The bell above the door jingles faintly as I throw the bolt, then yank down the "Closed" sign like it’s the most important mission of my life. My pulse hammers in my ears, my fingers fumblingwith the door even though I’ve done this a thousand times. Behind me, Ashe lets out a laugh that rumbles with relief and amusement—it’s the kind of sound that sneaks into your ribs and stays there, warm and stubborn like sunlight after a storm.
We stumble toward the stairs, lips fused, hearts racing. There’s laughter, a bump against a shelf, a whispered curse when his boot knocks over a watering can on the way up. My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, tugging it free as we ascend, while his hands slide under my floral tee, rough palms against my skin sending goosebumps racing across my body. His mouth never strays far from mine, only shifting to kiss my neck, the edge of my jaw, making me gasp and giggle at the same time.
By the time we reach the top step, his shirt is off, my top is long gone, and we're wrapped around each other like a tangled string of Christmas lights. We don’t stop moving, driven by laughter, heat, and a desperate need that’s been simmering for far too long.
His skin is warm against mine, his hands moving with a reverence that makes me tremble. Each touch is careful but possessive, like he’s rediscovering something precious he thought he’d lost. I feel worshipped—cherished in a way that makes my heart clench andmy breath hitch. His mouth follows the curve of my shoulder, his fingers tracing paths that send sparks along my spine. I feel so achingly seen, so wanted, that it steals the air from my lungs and replaces it with fire.
"Daisy," he whispers, voice thick with emotion, cracking around the edges. "Being with you... it feels like coming home. Like I finally found where I belong."
He kisses me again, slower this time, drawing it out like he never wants to stop tasting me. His fingers tease my nipples, circling gently until I gasp. His mouth follows, warm and possessive, as his other hand trails lower, grazing down my stomach, making me squirm beneath him. When he reaches my center, he finds me already soaked for him. His fingers stroke my clit with steady pressure, his mouth still claiming my nipple, and my body arches as the pleasure overtakes me.
I come with a cry, a wave of pleasure crashing through me so hard I forget my own name. My body arches into him as he nips my sensitive nipple, the added sensation sending sparks all the way to my toes. My heart pounds, breathless and overwhelmed, as if my soul is momentarily untethered. For a moment, there’s nothing else—just this consuming,euphoric release that leaves me trembling, undone, and utterly his.
As the blissful haze begins to fade and my breath starts to steady, I rest my cheek against his chest for a moment, listening to the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. My body still hums from the intensity of what we just shared, and something inside me swells with a delicious kind of satisfaction.
Then a thought crosses my mind, wicked and warm. It's his turn.
A slow grin spreads across my face. I lift my head and press a kiss to his collarbone, trailing a line of them down his chest as my fingers begin a teasing journey of their own. He groans beneath me, already responding, and the sound of it lights me up all over again.
Yep. Definitely his turn to feel this good.
My fingers tangle in his hair before sliding down his chest, tracing the muscles I’ve dreamed about for weeks. I push him gently all the way onto his back, a wicked smile curving my lips. My mouth follows the trail of my fingers—slow, teasing kisses down his chest, his stomach—until I’m face to face with his cock, hard and pulsing for me. I flick my tongue over the tip, savoring the taste of him. As he sucks in a sharp breath, I take him into my mouth, one slowinch at a time, my hand cradling his balls. His hands grip my hair, his eyes locked on me like I’m his entire world.
Just when he's on the edge, he pulls me off with a growl and flips me beneath him, his breath ragged. "I need to be inside you," he rasps, voice low and wrecked. "They test us at the station every month. I’m clean."
“I just had my physical,” I whisper, heart pounding. “I’m clean too.”
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please, Ashe. I need to feel you inside of me.”
He enters me in one smooth stroke, and the sensation steals my breath. He lets out a groan, low and guttural, like he’s been holding it back for far too long. “Jesus, Daisy,” he pants, voice rough with emotion. “You feel... like heaven. So damn incredible.”
I moan, gripping his arms, my nails digging into his biceps as heat coils tighter in my belly. "Then move," I whisper breathlessly, "or I’m going to combust. I swear, if you make me wait one more second, I might spontaneously explode like a damn bomb in July."
I laugh, the sound catching between ourmouths, and begin to move with him. Slow at first. Deep. Intentional. But soon our rhythm builds into something wild, desperate, and unstoppable. We chase the edge together, holding on like we’re afraid to let go—until the release slams into us, powerful and consuming, stealing the air from our lungs and leaving us trembling in each other’s arms.
When he’s done, Ashe gets up and grabs a washcloth, gently cleaning me up before crawling back into bed. He suddenly jumps upright like he’s been hit with a cattle prod, practically launching himself off the bed.
"Shit! What the—" Ashe actually jumps, nearly launching himself off the bed like a startled cat. His eyes are wild, scanning the room as if expecting a SWAT team.
I burst into laughter as I realize what’s happened. "Peaches! Bad girl." I try to scold her, but it doesn’t come across as scolding with my laughter filling the room.
