The weight of those two words—firm, final, and mine—sends her retreating for now. But she’ll try again. She always does. Like a ghost at the edge of our happiness, haunting with her misplaced hope. Still, for tonight, she’s gone. Back towhatever carefully curated cave she slithers out of when she thinks she has a chance.
The door shuts.
I turn back to Cam, my lips curled into a smirk, hips grinding into his lap, needing to feel how far that food fight unravelled him—how wrecked he is beneath all that control.
Who knew tomato sauce could double as foreplay?
“I don’t know about you,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue along the trail of my collarbone, “but I’m done with dinner. What I want... is you, naked and ready in the shower.”
“Keep talking like that and we won’t make it past the kitchen tiles,” I whisper against his mouth, the taste of him already overwhelming everything else.
I’m finally happy—no chaos, no rescues, no strategy meetings or tragic headlines. Just us. Tangled and breathless.
Free.
“Get up,” he growls, my fingers instinctively fisting his shirt in response. “Because if I don’t get you upstairs, I’ll devour you right here.”
He answers with teeth grazing my lower lip, tugging, dragging me closer, and my breath fractures. His palm lands on my ass, a sharp sting followed by a possessive squeeze—his self-restraint slipping by the second.
“I love you,” I snarl, letting my body grind into him with deliberate urgency, chasing sensation, testing limits. “Stalker boy.”
He laughs, low and wrecked, eyes blazing. “You’ve got no idea how much you’re going to love what I’m going to do to your pussy tonight.”
We may be sauce-stained and floor-bound, but everything between us is pure flame.
And tonight? Tonight, we burn slow—together.
