Page 33 of Price of Victory (The Saints of Westmont U #5)

“I love you, too,” I said, and then we were kissing, desperate and hungry and full of two weeks’ worth of longing.

He tasted like coffee and winter air and everything I’d been missing. His hands found mine, our fingers intertwining like they’d been designed to fit together, and when we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want, so long as we’re alone and together.”

I didn’t let him lead me. Instead, I pulled him after me, heading toward the dormitory, which was only a few blocks away. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it, and with every step, the reality of what was happening became more real.

“What happened?” I asked as we hurried through the empty campus streets. “With your family, I mean. What changed?”

“I told them the truth,” he said simply. “I told them I didn’t want their empire, didn’t want to spend my life building something I didn’t believe in. I told them all I wanted was you.”

“And they were okay with that?”

“They were surprised. But ultimately, they said they just wanted me to be happy.” He squeezed my hand tighter. “I’m free, Rhett. Free to love you without hesitation or compromise or worry about what anyone else thinks.”

We reached my dorm building, and I fumbled with my key card while Aiden pressed close behind me, his breath warm against my neck. The moment we were inside, I turned and pinned him against the door, kissing him hard enough to bruise.

He melted against me, his hands fisting in my jacket as he kissed me back with equal desperation. This was what I’d been missing, this feeling of completeness that came from being pressed against him, from breathing in his scent and feeling his heart beat against my chest.

We made it upstairs somehow, though I couldn’t have said how.

I was too focused on the way he looked at me, like I was something precious he’d thought he’d lost forever.

My hands shook as I unlocked my door, the simple act of turning the key feeling monumental, like I was opening the door to our future rather than just my dorm room.

The moment we were inside, the careful control we’d been maintaining shattered completely.

Aiden spun me around and pressed me back against the closed door, his mouth finding mine with a desperation that took my breath away.

This kiss was different from the ones outside, hungrier, more urgent, carrying weeks’ worth of longing and regret and hope all tangled together.

I could taste the salt of tears on his lips, though I wasn’t sure if they were his or mine. My heart was beating so hard I thought it might burst from my chest, and when he pulled back to look at me, his eyes were bright with unshed emotion.

“Are you real?” he whispered, his hands coming up to frame my face like he needed to convince himself I wasn’t going to disappear. “Tell me this isn’t a dream.”

“I’m real,” I said, covering his hands with mine. “We’re real.”

He kissed me again, softer this time but no less intense, and I felt something fundamental shift inside my chest. All the walls I’d built up over the past two weeks, all the anger and hurt and stubborn pride, crumbled like they’d been made of sand.

This was Aiden, my Aiden, and he was here because he’d chosen me over everything else in his life.

Our kisses became hungrier, more desperate, two weeks of separation pouring out in every touch and caress.

I ran my hands through his hair, reacquainting myself with its softness, the way it curled slightly at the ends when it was longer like this.

He traced the line of my jaw with fingers that trembled slightly, and I could feel the emotion radiating off him in waves.

“I missed you,” he whispered against my lips, his voice breaking slightly. “God, Rhett, I missed you so much it felt like I was dying.”

“I missed you, too,” I said, and the words didn’t even begin to capture the ache that had been living in my chest since he’d walked out of my life. “I missed everything about you.”

Then we were pulling at each other’s clothes with fumbling urgency, our hands getting in each other’s way as we tried to eliminate every barrier between us. His jacket hit the floor with a soft thud, followed by my sweater, and then we were skin to skin for the first time in what felt like forever.

The sensation of his bare chest against mine made me gasp, electricity shooting through every nerve ending.

I’d forgotten how perfectly we fit together, how his body seemed designed to complement mine in every way.

My hands traced the familiar landscape of his shoulders, his chest, the sensitive spot just below his ear that made him gasp when I kissed it.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured against his throat, tasting the salt of his skin and breathing in the scent that was uniquely him. “I dreamed about this, about touching you again.”

He shivered at my words, his hands fisting in my hair as I worked my way down his neck with soft kisses. “I used to lie awake at night thinking about your hands,” he confessed, his voice rough with desire. “The way you touch me like I’m something precious.”

“You are precious,” I said, pulling back to look at him. “You’re the most precious thing in my life.”

His eyes filled with tears again, but this time, they were tears of joy rather than pain. “I love you so much, Rhett. I love you so much it scares me.”

“Don’t be scared,” I said, kissing away the tear that had escaped to track down his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

We moved together toward my bed, our hands never stopping their exploration of each other’s bodies.

Every touch felt like a rediscovery, like we were learning each other all over again after too long apart.

When he kissed the hollow of my throat, I felt electricity shoot straight through my nervous system, making my knees weak.

When I traced the line of his hip bone with my tongue, he arched beneath me like he was trying to get closer, to eliminate even the smallest space between us.

“I need you,” he whispered, his hands roaming over my back, my sides, anywhere he could reach. “I need to feel you, all of you.”

“Are you sure?” I asked when we tumbled onto my narrow bed, suddenly needing to hear him say it. We’d been through so much pain, so much confusion and hurt, that I needed to know this was what he really wanted.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, his voice rough with want and tenderness in equal measure. “I want to be with you, Rhett. I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

We conversed entirely in touches and sighs and whispered endearments. We took our time removing the rest of our clothes, each revealed inch of skin celebrated with kisses and caresses that made us both tremble.

I marveled at the way the dim light from my lamp painted shadows across his body, highlighting the lean muscle of his torso and the graceful curve of his spine. When I ran my hands down his sides, he shivered and pressed closer, his own hands mapping the planes of my chest with reverent attention.

“I memorized you,” he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin that made me feel like I was glowing from the inside out. “Every freckle, every scar, every place that makes you make that sound I love.”

“What sound?” I asked, though my voice came out breathless as his touch found exactly the spot he was talking about.

“That one,” he said with a smile that was equal parts tender and mischievous. “The little gasp you make when I touch you just right.”

Every kiss was a promise, every caress a declaration of love that went deeper than words could express.

When he pressed his lips to the hollow of my throat, I felt my pulse jump beneath his mouth.

When I traced the sensitive skin of his inner wrist with my tongue, he made a sound that was half sigh, half moan, and completely beautiful.

“I want to remember everything,” I said, my hands learning the geography of his body all over again. “The way you feel, the way you taste, the sounds you make when I touch you here.” I demonstrated, and he arched beneath me, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Rhett,” he whispered. “Please.”

I lost myself in the feeling of his skin against mine, in the way he moved beneath me like we were made to fit together.

Every movement was deliberate, tender, designed to bring us closer rather than simply to chase release.

When he wrapped his legs around my waist, when he pulled me down for another kiss that tasted like promises and forever, I felt like I was coming home after a long journey in the wilderness.

The rhythm we found was ancient and new at the same time, familiar because our bodies remembered each other but different because of everything we’d been through.

This wasn’t just desire, wasn’t just the physical need to be close to someone.

This was connection in its purest form, the feeling of two souls recognizing each other and deciding to become one.

“I love you,” he gasped against my ear, his hands clutching at my shoulders like I was an anchor in a storm. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I replied, my voice breaking with the force of the emotion coursing through me. “Always. Forever.”

Time became elastic, measured only by the rhythm of our breathing and the soft sounds we made as we loved each other with a tenderness that made my chest ache.

I could feel every beat of his heart where our chests pressed together, could taste the salt of tears and joy when he kissed me with desperate sweetness.

When he said my name again, it sounded like something sacred and precious that he was offering up to the universe. And when I whispered his name back, it felt like a vow, a promise that this time would be different, that this time we’d hold on to what we had.

The tension built slowly between us, a gradual crescendo that felt less like climbing toward a peak and more like sinking deeper into something warm and infinite.

Every movement sent waves of sensation through my entire body, and I could see in his eyes that he was feeling the same overwhelming combination of physical pleasure and emotional connection.

“Don’t let go,” he whispered, his voice tight with approaching climax. “Promise me you won’t let go.”

“Never,” I promised and meant it with every fiber of my being. “I’ll never let go again.”

When release finally claimed us both, it was with a gentleness that left us both shaking, clinging to each other like we were the only solid things in a world gone liquid. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin while aftershocks of pleasure rippled through both our bodies.

The silence that followed was peaceful rather than awkward, filled with the sound of our gradually slowing heartbeats and the soft whisper of skin against skin as we adjusted our positions.

He traced lazy patterns on my back while I pressed soft kisses to his shoulder, both of us reluctant to break the spell that had settled over us.

“That was…” he started, then trailed off, apparently unable to find words.

“Perfect,” I finished for him. “That was perfect.”

“I was going to say life-changing, but perfect works, too.” He tilted his head to look at me, and I was struck by how young he looked in the aftermath of love, how unguarded and genuinely happy.

We lay there afterward, wrapped around each other in my too-small bed, our bodies still humming with the echo of what we’d shared.

His head was pillowed on my chest, and I could feel his breath evening out as exhaustion finally caught up with him.

The weight of him against me felt like the most natural thing in the world, like this was exactly where he belonged.

“What happens now?” I asked quietly, running my fingers through his hair and marveling at how soft it was, how it caught the dim light filtering through my window.

“Now we figure it out together,” he said without lifting his head, his voice muffled against my chest. “No more secrets, no more walls. Just us.”

“Just us,” I agreed and felt something settle into place in my chest, like a puzzle piece finally finding its proper spot. “Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “But the good kind of scared. The kind that means something important is happening.”

“I’m scared, too,” I confessed. “But I’m more scared of losing you again than I am of anything else.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, lifting his head to look at me with eyes that were serious and bright with unshed emotion. “I’m done running, Rhett. I’m done letting fear make my decisions for me.”

“Good,” I said, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Because I’m done letting pride make mine.”

Outside, snow was beginning to fall, dusting the campus in white that would transform everything by morning.

I could see the flakes dancing past my window, catching the light from the streetlamps below.

But inside my small dorm room, wrapped in Aiden’s arms with his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, I felt like I had everything I needed.

We’d found our way back to each other despite the obstacles and complications and family histories that had tried to tear us apart.

And lying there in the peaceful aftermath of reconciliation, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine and listening to the soft sound of his breathing, I knew with absolute certainty that this was where I belonged.

“I love you,” I whispered into the darkness, not because I needed to say it but because I wanted to, because the words felt like a gift I could give him.

“I love you, too,” he murmured back, his arms tightening around me like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

In his arms, in this moment, in this love that had proven stronger than everything that had tried to destroy it, I felt complete in a way I’d never experienced before. This wasn’t just about desire or attraction or even the deep affection that had been building between us for months.

This was home. This was forever. This was the beginning of something that would last long after we graduated, long after the hockey season ended, long after all the external pressures and expectations faded away.

This was love in its truest form, and we had chosen it over everything else.

And that made all the difference.