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We both make unintelligible noises at our bodies joining, and my eyes water from the sensation of him raw and bare. It’s like coming home.

“So fucking good,” he mutters against my neck.

I wrap my legs around him like I did in the motel room, pulling him closer so there’s nearly no space between us. Ryker moves his hips, thrusting inside me in slow, deep thrusts over and over again. I cling to him, and he croons words of praise into my ear as I slowly fall apart in his hands.

“Come, Finley. I can feel you’re almost there.”

I slide a hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He devours me as he continues to thrust, circling his finger over my clit and giving me no choice but to shatter and release.

I cry into his mouth, my sounds swallowed by him as he grunts out his own pleasure. His cum spills inside me, filling me up and sending sparks down my spine.

When he can’t hold himself up any longer, he rolls us to our side so we can see each other, our breaths choppy and sweat clinging to our skin. He tucks strands of hair behind my ear as he likes to do, smiling softly. I know there are a million things we could say right now, and we still have important conversations to get to, but there’s only one thing that could make tonight more perfect.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I can’t help the smile that teases my lips.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I bring a hand up to his beard—it’s grown longer than usual—and give it a gentle tug. “What would you say to a storm chase?”

His eyes light up, and he radiates a happiness that thunders through my entire being. “You have your eyes on a cell?”

“A squall line an hour from here.”

“Then I’d say…” He sits up, extending his hand toward me. “What are we waiting for, Ms. Buckley?”

My heart skips a beat, and I slide my hand into his, knowing this is the first of many storms we’ll face together.

Epilogue

Joey

ONE YEAR LATER

“That right there is called shit on a shingle.” Four pairs of disgusted eyes stare at me from around my dinner table. Attempting not to laugh, I sit down at the head of the table and grin at my plate of chipped beef on toast. I pick up a fork and dig in, humming around the rich gravy and meat.

When I don’t hear any sounds of forks or eating, I look up from my plate to see my team still staring at me. I bite back another laugh.

“What?”

“Joseph,” Ryker grumbles, and again, I have to stop myself from laughing. I think it’s hysterical when he uses my first name. “This looks like…”

“Shit?” I grin, taking in another mouthful.

“That’s one way to put it, man,” Ezra says.

I swallow and take a sip of my water. “SOS was a family staple of mine growing up. Cheap, easy—my grandpa used to eat it in the military. It’s comfort food.”

Hawk pushes some of it around on his plate. “A comfort to whom?” he asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek. I adore that man, but for someone who eats gas station food on the regular, he sure can be picky.

“Eat it,” I bark at them. “It’s like sausage gravy on toast. You’ll all likeit.”

Finley picks up her fork and cuts into her toast. I take another bite as the guys watch her, Ryker in particular. Though he’s more focused on her mouth opening than anything else.

Not that I can blame him. T-Mama is a snack, and I’d be obsessed with her, too, if she were my girlfriend. Hell, I’m kind of obsessed with her, anyway—but in a totally platonic friend way. I’ve got Hawk to keep me warm, and I like his mouth maybe more than Ryker likes Finley’s.

I grin around another forkful of food at the dirty image in my mind and shoot a glance at Hawk beside me. He feels my gaze and meets my eyes, eyebrow lifting. I make a show of poking my tongue against my cheek in a lewd way, and Hawk flushes.