Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me in close as I moved slowly, deliberately, taking my time because this wasn’t about urgency—it was about us. About feeling everything. Her nails grazed down my back in a way that sent a shiver through me, and when she said my name, it came out like a prayer and a promise all at once—soft, reverent, unforgettable.
We found a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like muscle memory laced with something electric. Her moans shifted into gasps, each one pulling me closer to the edge. My control began to slip, unraveling thread by thread, but I held on—kissing her through the build, pulling her tighter against me, moving deeper with every breathless beat between us.
When she came again, clinging to me with a shudder and a cry, I followed her over the edge seconds later, the world blurring around the edges as everything else fell away.
The release tore through me, so intense it stole the strength from my limbs, and all I could do was collapse beside her, breathless and spent. I gathered her into my arms, her skin warm and slick with sweat, her heartbeat racing in sync with mine.
She didn’t speak right away—just curled into me like she’d always belonged there, like this was the place she was meant to be.
And the truth was, she did.
Neither of us moved as she lay curled in my arms, her skin still damp with sweat and her breath slowly evening out. I didn’t want the moment to end. I wanted to stay right there, with her heartbeat pressed to my ribs, her scent lingering on my skin, and the quiet weight of peace settling over us like something rare and hard-won.
“I missed you,” she whispered against my chest.
“You have no idea,” I sighed, my hand tracing slow circles over her back.
She tilted her head, chin resting against my chest. “The Outer Banks were beautiful, but it was lonely. I wasn’t even allowed to talk to anyone.”
I gave a half-smile. “Except for Ira.”
She snorted. “Okay, yes, Ira found a way. He’s probably on a government watchlist now. He called every day and told me you were haunting the Home Depot gardening aisle and had opinions about hydrangeas.”
I groaned. “He would tell you that.”
She laughed, and damn, it felt good to hear it in person instead of in my dreams.
“I spent the whole time working on the house,” I admitted quietly. “I needed something that kept me moving, something that made it feel like I wasn’t just sitting in the mess of everything. So, I poured myself into it—pulled up the floors, smoothed out the walls, even replaced that faucet in the kitchen that never quite worked right. I didn’t want it to just be a house anymore. I wanted it to mean something. To feel like a place we could start over…a place that was ours.”
She looked around again, really seeing it this time. Her fingers brushed over the blanket folded at the edge of the bed. I’d picked it up because it reminded me of one she used to have on her couch.
Her expression softened. “This is more than a fresh start, it's perfect.”
Then the barking started—soft at first, distant, but unmistakable all the same.
She jerked and looked around us. “What the hell is that?”
Here we go.
I climbed out of bed, grabbed the robe I’d stashed nearby—sage green, soft as hell, and something I figured she’d like—and brought it back to her.
She held it up, eyes narrowing. “Is this mine?”
“It’s not my color,” I deadpanned. Seeing her shoulders moving with laughter, I explained, “Your clothes are all washed and in the closet. One of my brothers is picking up your bag from wherever they stashed it during the trial. We figured you’d want your stuff here, just in case you didn’t throw me out on my ass.”
She slipped into the robe, and I held out a hand. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Gabby let me lead her down the hall, curiosity written all over her face. I stopped at the door, took a breath, and opened it slowly.
Inside, nestled in a cozy little room I’d outfitted with rugs and blankets and low light, was her—the shepherd mix from the compound. The one who’d fought harder than anyone that night. She looked up at us with her three legs and all her heart, ears twitching as she barked once—sharp and alert.
“She made it?” Gabby whispered, stepping closer.
“Yeah. Sadly, she lost the leg, but she’s tough as hell. The vet said she was lucky.” I knelt beside her and scratched behind her ear, and the dog leaned into me like we’d been doing this for years.
“She wouldn’t settle after the standoff,” he said. “Jesse was carrying her out, but she started squirming, whining, and trying to get down. So, he set her on her feet, and she limped off into the trees. He followed, kept his distance, and she led him straight to this little hollow in the roots of a tree. That’s where he found them—three tiny puppies, whimpering and fragile.”