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“And I love you, too,” he whispers, dusting his lips over mine.

“Can we go on your yacht next week? Just…get away from everything and go?”

He blinks at me, looking confused. His cock is still inside me, and while we’ve had conversations during sex before, I realize this is out of the blue.

“I…want a do-over,” I tell him, stroking his cheek. “I was a mess when we were on it the first time.”

Frowning, he rubs his thumb beneath my lower lip and cups my chin. “We don’t get do-overs, babe. That’s not how life works. I know it may have seemed messy and complicated—I was a complete savage,” he adds, looking guilty. “But I don’t want a do-over. I may not have gotten you if it had gone any differently, but,” he continues, giving me a soft peck, “I’ll take you. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

As soon as the words are out, I know he’s right. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed, and my lip starts trembling. I nod and pull him down for a kiss. I wouldn’t risk a do-over either. But I will make sure he has the time of his life, and I won’t hold back. I’m never going to hold anything back ever again.

I don’t let him go, holding him there, deepening our kiss as I rock my hips up into him. He makes a noise against my mouth like he’s now sharing this rabid desperation inside me, the kind where we can’t get close enough. Drawing my legs up around him, I sink into the pillows as he makes love to me. Slow, steady, hungry, grateful, perfect.

He once told me a piece of ludicrous filth—that my ass and cock were made for him. Granted, I like the thought, but I’m ahundred percent certain now that this man in his entirety—his heart, his mind, body, and soul—was made just for me.

I was living in a cage my entire life before he came along. The key I thought I needed months ago turned out to be Rory’s love. It’s one I never plan on handing back to him.