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His voice broke, but he let it. “I love you.”

Her breath hitched.

“Blind or sighted.”

She shuddered, her lips trembling. Then she reached blindly for him, her hands finding his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. She touched him like she was trying to memorize him, trying to carve him into her world that had gone completely dark.

And he let her.

He held himself still, letting her explore, letting her understand him in a way no one else ever had. Her fingers drifted lower, trailing down the solid line of his throat, pressing lightly over the steady thrum of his pulse.

"Noah," she whispered, voice raw, uncertain.

He caught her hand in his, kissing the center of her palm. "I'm here."

Her body softened, her tension unraveling beneath his touch. He leaned in again, brushing his lips over her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth—slow, reverent, taking his time. Letting her feel everything.

She turned into him, her lips seeking his, and this time when he kissed her, it wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t restrained. It was deep, slow, unwavering.

He savored her, the way she tasted, the way she sighed against him, the way she pressed closer, like she needed more of him, like she didn’t want the distance anymore.

Neither did he.

His fingers skimmed over her skin, following the curve of her back, the delicate line of her spine. She was so soft beneath his hands, so warm, and when he slid his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, her breath hitched.

But she didn’t stop him. She pulled him closer.

Noah took his time, peeling away the layers slowly, like he was unwrapping something precious, something that belonged to him alone.

And when she lay beneath him, bare and vulnerable, he didn’t rush. His lips followed the path of his hands, worshipping her the way she deserved, whispering her name against her skin as she trembled beneath him.

She was his. And he would make sure she knew it.

She gasped softly as his hands roamed lower, her body arching instinctively, pressing into him. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips, her body so responsive, so open to him.

He wanted to memorize every inch of her. His mouth traced down her collarbone, his lips pressing against the frantic beat of her pulse. She was alive. She was here. With him.

And, God, he loved her.

Her breath staggered, her nails scraping gently against his shoulders, her body pressing closer, seeking him. Needing him. “Noah.” His name slipped from her lips, barely a whisper, but it shattered him.

Noah groaned softly, his forehead pressing against hers as he lined himself up with her, every movement slow, deliberate. He watched her, even if she couldn’t see him—watched the way her breath caught, the way she clung to him, the way she let him in.

And when he finally pushed inside, he did it with the utmost care, with love, with everything he felt for her pressing between them.

She gasped, her hands fisting the sheets. “Noah…” Her voice cracked, her body trembling, and he knew she remembered this. Maybe not completely, maybe not in full detail. But her body knew. Her heart knew.

As he moved inside her, slow and deep, letting her adjust, letting her feel him in every possible way, he felt the moment she let go. She finally stopped fighting the memories. She gave in to the moment, to them.

This wasn’t just making love. It was a promise. A vow that no matter how much she forgot, no matter how much she lost, he would always be the one to bring her back.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, deeper, her body fitting to his like she had never been meant for anyone else. And she hadn’t.

She was his.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there, his lips brushing against her ear. “I love you, Rae.”

A soft, broken sob slipped from her throat, but she held on to him tighter, kissed him deeper, moved with him, like she could finally feel everything she had been searching for. When she fell apart beneath him, gasping his name, trembling in his arms?—