Page 12 of Faron (The Golden Team #8)

Faron

B lue’s place wasn’t what I expected.

Not sterile. Not chaotic. Just a tiny bungalow tucked behind the clinic, half-covered in jasmine vines. A cracked walkway. One porch light buzzing with moths. It smelled like sage and lavender and rain-warped wood.

Home, in a way only she could make it.

She unlocked the door, tossed her keys onto a chipped side table, and kicked her boots into a pile near the wall.

“Bear, stay. Be good.”

He padded in behind us and flopped onto a rug with a grunt of satisfaction. Like he already owned the joint.

Blue turned, crossing her arms again—her favorite armor.

“This doesn’t mean—”

I kissed her before she could finish.

My hands slid into her hair, mouth claiming hers like I was making up for every lost minute. She tasted like black coffee, stubbornness, and the years I spent aching for this exact moment.

She bit my bottom lip when I pulled away.

“Shut up, Lightfoot.”

“Wasn’t gonna say a word.”

She shoved me backward down the hallway, laughing breathlessly, kicking the bedroom door open with one bare foot.

There was only one bed. The sheet was wrinkled, the pillows mismatched. Clothes in a heap on the chair. No frills. Just real.

Perfect.

I grabbed her hips, lifted her easily, and laid her on the bed like I’d never let her go again.

She tugged off my shirt like it had wronged her personally.

“You’re heavier,” she teased.

“You’re smaller,” I growled.

Her tank top hit the floor. Then my belt. Then the whole world narrowed to skin and breath and the soft, hungry sounds she made when I touched the places that still remembered me.

She wrapped her legs around me, arched beneath me, her fingers dragging down my spine like she was carving herself back into my body.

When I entered her, rougher than I meant, she gasped and held tighter.

I buried my face in her neck. “Blue.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and I didn’t.

Not when the city howled outside.

Not when the world reminded us what we’d lost.

Not when she said my name like a vow.

Later, she curled into my side, one leg thrown over mine, her breath slowing against my chest. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

She traced the scar beneath my ribs with a finger.

“You’re still trouble.”

“You missed my trouble.”

She laughed against my chest.

“Yeah. I did.”

She fell asleep first. I stayed awake, listening to her breathe, holding her like I never planned to let her go again.

Outside, Bear snored against the door.

No promises.

But tonight?

Tonight was everything.