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I gasped into his mouth, one hand bracing against the vanity, the other curled around the back of his neck. “Please,” I whispered. “Don’t make me wait. ”

His breath stuttered as the tip of him dragged against my center, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He’d changed the condom. When had he changed the condom?

The difference between what he’d given me minutes ago and this—I couldn’t find the words.

“Tell me again,” he said, forehead pressed to mine. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” I breathed. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

That was all he needed.

He slid inside me in one slow, perfect stroke. We both gasped, clung to each other, eyes locked. He didn’t move, not yet. Just held me like this, buried inside, our foreheads touching, breaths mingling.

“I’ve never made love to anyone before,” he murmured. “Not like this. Not like you.”

My eyes stung. “Then do it right,” I whispered. “Give me all of you.”

He began to move—slow, deep thrusts that had me panting against his mouth, my fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

Each movement was deliberate. Worshipful.

His hands mapped every inch of me like I was sacred.

His lips chased every moan from mine, kissing them away, replacing them with gasped confessions.

“I need you.”

“I missed your laugh.”

“I love your heart.”

He hit a spot that made me cry out, and he caught the sound with his mouth, swallowing it whole. “You feel like home,” he whispered.

I was shaking—legs wrapped around him, arms locked tight, body pulsing around his. He was close. I was closer.

“Don’t let go,” I begged. “Please don’t ever let go.”

“Never,” he vowed, and then we were unraveling, falling together.

He held me through every shudder, every aftershock, whispering my name as a prayer. We stayed like that for what felt like forever, tangled and breathless, neither of us willing to let go.

Then the reality crept in. The broken glass. The slammed door. The fact that I no longer had a job.

But none of that mattered, not in that moment.

It took us a few minutes to come to our senses and realize that we’d just hardcore made love—an oxymoron yet true nonetheless—in a strip club.

Reece helped me dress with a tenderness that unraveled me all over again.

His big hands were gentle as he slid my robe back over my shoulders, smoothing the fabric down like it was made of silk and not worn by someone who’d just had sex with him against a dressing room wall.

He crouched in front of me to pick up my underwear.

“Sorry. I’ll replace them.”

“It’s okay. Get my clothes from the locker. Then we can leave.”

He pressed a kiss to my thigh before standing.

His touch lingered—on my waist, my wrist, my cheek. Like he didn’t want to let me go. Like he needed the reassurance that I was real, that I was still his.

“No need to dress. This”—he ran his finger along the inside seam of my robe— “won’t be on long enough to matter. Real clothing will just take me longer to get back to what’s mine.”

That was good enough for me. The robe covered what needed to stay private. We gathered up all my things, as well as my tips from the night.

When we stepped out of the dressing room, glass still littered the floor. McLovin was long gone, probably nursing his pride and a bottle to match. Reece didn’t even look at the mess he’d made—just tucked me under his arm and led me out the back exit.

No Dane in sight. I wasn’t naive enough to believe we’d seen the last from him, but I couldn’t let him ruin this reunion. I loved Baker Reece and he loved me. Dane in no way got to be present tonight. I’d think about him tomorrow.

We didn’t talk on the drive. I stared out the window, still dazed, heart bruised but healing. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh, thumb moving back and forth in quiet circles that grounded me more than anything ever had.

When we pulled up outside my apartment building, he didn’t kill the engine. Just looked over at me like I might disappear if he blinked.

“We’ll get your car tomorrow,” he said, voice low. “But tonight… I need to be with you.”

I nodded, throat thick. “Okay.”

“And Benny,” he added softly. “I need to be with my family.”

The tears came fast and hot, but I didn’t turn away this time. I let them fall. Let him see. Because somehow, even after all of it, he still wanted us. Not just me. Us.

He came around to open my door, took my hand, and walked me inside the building. Up the steps to my floor. He knocked on Claudia’s door. She opened it wearing her robe, her expression softening when she saw Reece. She said nothing, just nodded and stepped aside to let us in.

Benny was asleep in his toddler bed, curled up with his weighted blanket and his favorite stuffed dragon. Reece crossed the room without hesitation, sank to his knees, and pressed a kiss to Benny’s forehead.

“I missed you, bud,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Benny stirred, breathing heavy through his nose, and reached out in his sleep. Reece pulled him into his arms and held him there, head bowed.

Claudia touched my shoulder. “Told you it wasn’t fake.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I just walked over, kneeled beside Reece on the floor, and wrapped my arms around both of them.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe we were going to be okay.

Because we were together.

And that was everything.