Nothing like this. Nothing that made me feel like if I broke my promise, I’d be destroying something sacred.
When her tears finally stop, she sighs against my shoulder, her body softening into mine. “I hate crying,” she murmurs, voice muffled.
I smile faintly, brushing her hair back. “You can cry on me anytime.”
She groans softly. “That’s not very sexy.”
“Trust me,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Right now, with you wrapped around me, there isn’t a damn thing that could make you less sexy.”
Her cheeks flush pink, even with her eyes still puffy. She buries her face in my chest again, and I just hold her tighter.
The minutes drag, my knot still firm, binding us. She shifts slightly, wincing, and I freeze.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask quickly, searching her face.
She shakes her head. “No. Just… it’s a lot. But it’s okay.”
I stroke her cheek again, needing her to know I mean it. “If it ever isn’t okay, you tell me. We stop. We always stop. Deal?”
Her eyes shine with something that makes my throat burn. She nods slowly.
We fall into silence again, the quiet kind that feels almost holy. I listen to her breathing, the faint sounds of the night drifting through the open window. My body is exhausted, but my mind won’t settle.
Because now that I’ve had her like this—soft, open, trusting—I realize just how deep I’m in.
This isn’t just a crush. It isn’t just attraction. I’m hooked, bound in a way that feels every bit as permanent as the knot still anchoring us.
And I don’t want out.
When I finally start to soften, when the swell eases and I can move again, I’m careful as I pull free. She winces a little, but I kiss her lips quickly, whispering, “Almost done, baby.”
She nods, eyes fluttering closed.
I grab a cloth from the nightstand drawer—habit of being a medic, always keeping things handy—and clean us up gently.
She blushes the whole time, turning her face away, but she doesn’t stop me. If anything, I think the careful way I handle her is part of what makes more tears gather in her eyes.
When I’m done, I pull the blanket over us and tuck her into my side. She curls into me immediately, like she was made to fit there.
I rest my chin on her hair. “You okay?”
She nods against my chest. “Yeah. Just… it’s a lot.”
“I know,” I murmur. “We’ll go slow. Always.”
Her hand finds mine under the blanket, her fingers lacing with mine. She squeezes once, like she’s testing me, and I squeeze back without hesitation.
Her breathing slows gradually, evening into the rhythm of sleep. But I stay awake long after, staring at the ceiling, my thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.
I think about all the shit she’s been through. About how many times she’s probably been made to feel like she was nothing more than a body to use. And then I think about tonight—the way she cried, the way she let me stay, the way she asked for my knot like she wanted every part of me.
It feels like a gift I don’t deserve.
And I swear to myself, right here in this bed with her tangled against me, that I’ll never be the reason she feels unwanted again.
Never.
I close my eyes finally, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep, Sadie,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
