Page 131 of Ghosts Don't Cry

I look down at the letters in my hands. I made her believe I wouldn’t have read them. Made her believe that her letters wouldn’t matter.

But they would have.God, they would have.

“I would have read them. Every single one. I would have—” I shake my head.

She looks up at me then, and it’s all there in her eyes. The years of hurt. The years of hoping. The years of loving me when I’d given her every reason not to.

The box tumbles to the floor, pages scattering. I don’t care. My hands reach for her, cupping her face and I kiss her like I can somehow make up for all those lost years.

This kiss is different from before. It’s full of a need I don’t know how to explain. My fingers burrow into her hair, tugging her closer, dragging her body against mine until there’s no space between us.

I roll until she’s beneath me, and all I can feel is her warmth, her softness, and her presence wrapped around me. My lips trail down her neck, over her shoulder, letting my mouth worship her in ways my words can’t express.

When I take a nipple between my lips, she arches against me, her hands sliding through my hair, and holding me in place.

“Ronan.” My name is a whisper, aplea, and the sound of it pushes me deeper into the need for her.

She pulls my head back up, fingers tracing the curve of my jaw, her lips ghosting over mine, until my mouth captures hers again. I let my hands roam, savoring the way she shivers beneath my touch.

Her legs wrap around my hips, urging me closer, and I slide inside her in one slow movement. She sighs into my mouth, and I drink in every sound, every shift of her breathing. I rock into her slowly this time. I let her feel every inch of me. Her lips part on a breathless moan, as the heat builds between us.

My fingers find her clit, teasing and stroking, until she gasps, her body arching beneath me. My eyes stay locked onto her face as pleasure builds, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want to give her this. To make her feel even a fraction of what she’s given me.

When she comes, it’s with my name on her lips, and I follow moments later, burying my face into her neck as I shatter.

Afterward, I stay inside her, unwilling to break the connection just yet. Our foreheads press together, eyes locked as our breathing slows. Her fingers stroke up and down my spine, while my hand holds one of her thighs against my hip.

I don’t want to let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Stay tonight?” Her voice is soft and drowsy.

I press a kiss to her temple, and slowly ease free from her body, immediately missing the connection. But I gather her against my chest, and pull her close.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

LILY

The first thingI notice when I wake up is warmth, solid and steady beneath me, heating my skin. My body is still tangled with his, my cheek resting against his chest, his arm draped around my waist, holding me close, even in sleep.

He’s still here.

I don’t know why I'm surprised. I half-expected to wake up and find him gone, his side of the bed cold. But no, he’s here, his sleep-softened breaths brushing against my hair, his heartbeat slow and regular under my palm.

It takes me a moment to process why it feels different.

We’ve touched before. We’ve fallen apart in each other’s arms. But we’ve never donethis. Spent the entire night together, limbs tangled, bodies relaxed.

We’ve never slept in the same bed …Hell, we’ve never even had sex in a bed before now.

In the factory, wrapped in blankets that were never quite enough to stay warm, he’d always stay awake. Every night I curled up beside him, wrapped myself around him, trying to keep him warm, until he’d tell me to go home. He’d never lethimself fall asleep while I was there. It was as though sleep was a risk he couldn’t afford.

But now … he’s asleep … in my bed. In myarms.

Morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden. Outside I can hear the muted sounds of the town waking. But nothing about this feels normal.

I don’t want to move. I barely breathe, afraid of shattering this fragile moment. Instead, I take it in. I takehimin.