Page 69 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

He fucks me through it. Through the confession.

Through the way my voice breaks when I say his name.

Through the third fucking orgasm that hits me like a freight train—sharp and sudden and so intense I nearly scream.

My legs shake, body jerking against the desk, the edge of it biting into my ribs as I pulse around him.

He follows with a growl, moaning my name against the back of my neck as he thrusts once, twice more—then stills, hips twitching as he comes inside me. His hands tremble against my skin, holding on like he might break apart if he doesn’t.

We stay like that—slumped over the desk, breathless and tangled, skin damp with sweat and the aftershock of it all.

His breath ghosts over my shoulder as he huffs a laugh into my skin. “I’m never getting any work done here again.”

I grin, still breathless, wiggling my fingers against the desk and our fingers tangle instinctively like he knows exactly what I'm wanting because he does.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep bringing you lunch,” I murmur.

His laugh this time is quiet, but the way his thumb brushes over the back of my hand feels a lot like love, because it is love, even if I don’t say it as much as he does. He never seems to need the words as much as I do the touch, the steady reassurance in these small moments.

The weight of him still pressed over me, the way his fingers curl between mine like he’s trying to remind me I’m real, we’re real— this is what speaks louder than anything I could ever say.

“Oh fuck, shit, bloody fucking—”

My head snaps up so fast I nearly knock into Moe’s chin, just in time to see Caspian slam the office door back shut with enough force to rattle the window blinds.

My cheeks go hot, a furious shade of pink spreading all the way down my throat as panic kicks in, scrambling my limbs as I try to slide out from under Moe, who, of course, is laughing .

Like his boss, his brother , didn’t just walk in on us mid-wreckage, half-dressed and breathless.

I grab the empty coffee cup Cordelia left on the floor and chuck it at Moe’s head, missing by an inch but making him laugh harder.

“You prick,” I hiss as I yank at my dress, trying to smooth it back into place with shaking hands.

Just as I lunge for my underwear, Moe’s already faster—snatching them up like they’re his prize, stuffing them into his pocket with a cocky grin like he’s got to have his souvenir . Fine. Whatever. I’ll find them again when I do laundry later— if he doesn’t frame them first.

“Come in!” Moe calls brightly, like this is just another Wednesday, and Caspian—who had clearly only fled to recover mentally—swings the door open again, this time with his gaze locked stubbornly on the ceiling.

“We need to take a trip to Greenport,” he says, the words a little too fast, a little too clipped, like he’s trying to rush past the trauma of what he just witnessed.

“Raylen can come. None of the other ladies will be participating in this mission, so… she’ll have company on their base or wherever the fuck the ladies pick to stay. ”

My brows lift and mouth parts, ready to ask what the hell is going on—because Moe still looks too post-orgasmic and smug to register that this might be important —but before I can speak, Caspian’s eyes snap to the floor.

No—at the desk. At the empty cup still rolling lazily in a circle where I threw it .

“Whose was that?” he asks, voice oddly sharp.

“I stay buried in mission reports. It’s mine. Now do you mind?” Moe mutters, tone flat and petulant, like he just got grounded.

Caspian’s jaw locks. His shoulders go stiff.

“Cordelia better not have been drinking that.”

The shift in the room is immediate.

My eyes flick between them—one confused, the other looking like he’s about to have a full-blown heart attack. Moe sits up straighter, brow furrowed. I can feel it—whatever this is—it’s not about the coffee.

“You’re like a damn bloodhound,” Moe mutters, exasperated. “It’s honestly getting weird. You should get it checked out. Psychologically, I mean.”

Caspian doesn’t even blink. Just keeps staring at the cup like it holds all the answers and none of them are good.

“Goddamn it, little siren,” he grits, voice low. Then, louder, he points a finger at Moe like he’s issuing a military-grade threat. “If your niece or nephew comes out with tachycardia, ADHD, or a fucking addiction to caffeine, I’m blaming you .”

The words land like a bomb.

Silence drops so heavy and fast that it actually rings in my ears. For a second, I’m not sure I heard him right, so I stare at him, stunned as Moe goes still beside me.

Holy shit.

Caspian said niece or nephew .

We stare at him like he’s lost his mind—because maybe he has—but when I look at Moe again, something shifts.

Something softens . And then… he smiles.

Big. Bright. The kind of smile that only I can typically pull from him, the kind that cracks straight through his usual intensity like sun through a storm.

And I smile too.

Because what a chaotic, messy, completely ridiculous family we’re building.

Ours .

Caspian smiles back—sarcastic and just a little smugger than usual—and that’s all it takes. Moe is up and crossing the room in two strides, throwing his arms around Caspian in the most terrifyingly enthusiastic bear hug I’ve ever seen.

Caspian wheezes. “Okay—Jesus—get off me—”

“You two go talk,” I say quickly, standing and smoothing my dress one last time.

I shoot Moe a look. “I’ll clean up in here.”

Moe tears himself away from Caspian just long enough to cross back to me. He presses a kiss to my temple, warm and lingering. “Don’t clean up too much. My niece or nephew will need a friend.”

“Moe!” I gasp, smacking his arm, my cheeks burning again, but he’s already backing toward the door, his eyes still shining as if he can’t believe his own luck.

He follows Caspian out, their voices fading down the hall, and I stand there for a moment longer. The room feels too quiet now, my body still buzzing from everything that just happened.

There’s shock, yes, but beneath it lies a steady, fierce joy, because I know it’s true. One day it will happen, and whatever child we bring into this world will be perfect . Not because they’ll enter a fairy tale, but because they’ll have us.

This child will have two parents who clawed their way out of hell and found each other at the edge of it.

Parents who made a home in a haunted house, patched up broken floorboards, and chose each other over and over again.

They will inherit my rain and his fire, my quiet and his noise, my survival and his scars.

After all, only the light can love the dark, and we’ve already proven we are both.