Page 13 of The Only Road Back

BETH

Jack’s lips crush onto mine, urgent, hungry.

I meet him, heat unfurling between us and burning away the last traces of doubt. My fingers wind into his hair, holding him close as he deepens the kiss.

A week’s worth of worry evaporates. Right now, it’s just us.

I want him, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I break the kiss, breathless. “I need you.”

A rough sound escapes him as he tightens his hands on my waist. “Beth.” His voice shakes. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He sweeps me up, gathering me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. My heart pounds as he carries me to the bedroom. His chest presses against mine, steady, strong, reassuring. He closes the door without looking away, those eyes locking me in place.

Shivers race down my spine.

The air thickens, humming with anticipation, like a storm about to break.

He sets me down, hands lingering on my hips. “You’re sure?” he asks again, softer this time, almost reverent.

I hold his gaze, my pulse wild. “I’m sure.”

Watching him, I pull my sweater over my head and let it fall. I slide out of my jeans until I stand before him in my underwear. Cool air touches my skin. Desire flares in his eyes, his jaw tense.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words barely above a whisper.

“For someone so competitive, you’re behind,” I tease, voice trembling with excitement.

When he grins, the tension evaporates. He peels off his shirt. His body is lean and defined, evidence of years of hard work. His jeans and briefs join mine on the floor.

I draw a sharp breath. “Oh.”

He notices. Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

A nervous laugh escapes. “If okay means slightly intimidated, then yes.”

His teasing vanishes. He steps closer, guiding me gently until my knees touch the bed.

“We fit,” he promises, hands steady on my waist. “We always have.”

His words sink in, and something lets go inside me.

He lowers me onto the sheets and stretches out beside me. His mouth finds my neck, hot and searching. I arch beneath him, fingertips digging into his shoulders.

“Jack,” I gasp as his teeth graze my pulse point, making me shudder.

His hand moves down, skimming across my stomach, then slipping his fingers into my folds. His touch is slow, knowing. He takes his time, coaxing me apart, letting desire build until I’m barely breathing.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.

I lose myself in sensation until I’m trembling. Each stroke is intentional; he knows exactly what I need.

When he finally settles above me, he meets my gaze, serious. “Tell me you want this.”

My voice is a whisper. “I want you.”

He kisses me, slow and deep, then pushes inside. At first, I tense, but he moves carefully, giving me time.

“Okay?” he rasps.

I nod, wrapping my legs around his hips. “More,” I whisper.

He groans and begins to move—slow at first, deliberate. The world narrows to the feel of him, the heat, the steady, exquisite pressure building inside me. I cling to him, anchoring us both.

His voice is ragged. “You feel incredible.”

Words fail me. There’s only sensation—the rush, the fullness, the way he seems to know every part of me.

Then I explode. “Jack! Oh, God!” I clutch him, the world dissolving.

He follows, losing control, his body shuddering above me as he calls my name.

After that, he pulls me close, our bodies pressed together. His chest rises and falls against mine, heart pounding in time with my own. We lie there in silence, letting the world filter back in.

He kisses my forehead. “You’re mine,” he mutters, voice rough and gentle all at once.

I don’t pull away. I snuggle against him. This is exactly where I belong. “I like the sound of that.”

The claim doesn’t scare me. It settles something deep inside.

We rest, entwined. Until it’s time to go again. The second time comes slower, sweeter, and unhurried. He traces every inch of me with lips and hands, exploring, learning, savoring. I memorize him, too, matching every kiss.

By the third time, I’m exhausted, gloriously undone.

He gathers me against his side, my head on his chest. I close my eyes and let myself drift in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Peace settles over me, and I feel whole.

He runs his fingers through my hair, his voice a low rumble. “Stay. With me.”

I look up, searching his face. “I thought we already decided that.”

He smiles. “I mean, stay for good. Don’t come back here. Not ever.”

My breath catches. For good? I should be nervous. I should hesitate.

But when I picture my old life—all the cold stares, the emptiness—it feels impossible now.

This, here in his arms, is home.

I cup his cheek. “Okay.”

His eyes search mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why not?”