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Her fingers graze mine. Light. Testing. Her skin is soft, warm, alive. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she whispers. “We were supposed tofake it.Pretend for the cameras. Not… this.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I’m tired of pretending.”

She looks at me like she doesn’t trust it yet. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but she blinks them away.

I don’t blame her. My track record speaks for itself.

“I’m glad it was you,” I add, voice low. “I don’t regret that night. I don’t regret you.”

Her eyes go glossy, but she blinks it away. “Me either.”

We sit there. Bruised. Bloody. Breathing in the aftershock. The air between us crackles with everything unsaid.

I don’t know what happens next. But I know one thing:

I’m not letting her face it alone.

Chapter thirty-three

Katarina

“Whateverhappens,I’minthis with you.”

His voice doesn’t waver. Doesn’t soften. He just says it like it’s fact—unchangeable, immovable.

I don’t cry. I don’t fall apart. But something inside me steadies. Like I’ve been bracing for impact—and instead, he catches me.

Because I didn’t know what he’d say. I didn’t know if I’d lose him before I ever really had him. But here he is. Staying. Choosing me.

Something tight and wild twists in my chest.

There’s no space, no air, no decision left to make—just the feel of his breath and the ache to be closer.

I kiss him like it’s the only way to stay above water.

There’s no hesitation, no overthinking, just raw need. My fingers skim along his jaw, rough with stubble, and I pull his mouth to mine like it’s the only thing that can stop me from coming apart.

And he kisses me back like he’s been holding it in this whole time. His mouth is hungry, relentless. His tongue brushes mine with purpose, his hands sliding into my hair like he wants to bury himself in me.

Liam kisses like he plays—hard, focused, no mercy. Like every movement is a message:

I’m here.

I’m staying.

I want this.

His thumbs stroke along my jaw like I’m delicate, even as his lips devour me. It’s rough and tender, fast and full of fire, and it’s the first time I’ve felt like I belong somewhere in weeks.

I swing a leg over and straddle him. His breath stutters. The air between us grows thick and hot, vibrating with everything we haven’t said.

But I don’t want to talk right now. Not about the baby. Not about Griffin. Not about the mess waiting for us outside these four walls.

I just want him. Want the way he makes everything else go quiet.

But I stop—just for a second. Just long enough to ground myself. I pull back, forehead against his, my heart banging in my chest like it’s trying to outrun my fear.