Page 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Nash had just put the finishing touches on the garage, the clutter was gone, his workout space as clean and organized as his home. Suddenly, he heard furtive movements, and his attention went to the garage door. What the fuck did Caspari want now? He went into the house, grabbed up his sidearm. Slipping through the kitchen he looked out the window and smirked. He set his weapon down on the counter.

Opening the back door, he stepped out. “The last time someone fucked with that door, they ended up face down on the pavement, tied up at gunpoint.”

His redheaded burglar turned with a smirk on her face. “Kinky.”

He laughed out loud. “What are you doing here, Harlan? You hackers are always trying to find a backdoor in.”

Her laughter was like sunshine. “You ex-Navy SEALs are always so confrontational. Damn alpha males.”

He walked down the stairs, and she came up to him. “So, you got something to say to me?” he asked as he took her in.

“Yeah, I do.” She stepped closer and his heartbeat accelerated.

“Well, I’m waiting. You know ex-Navy SEALs are busy people.”

“Oh, I know it. Pushy, and opinionated, and all kinds of sexy.”

“That so?”

“Oh, it’s so.”

“Time’s awasting, my beautiful hebbiti .”

She set her hands against his chest, and that hole inside him that had been missing the fuck out of her touch filled to bursting.

“I love you, Nashir Rahim. More than I thought I could possibly love anyone, ever. How’s that for a statement, so handsome it should be against the law? Why aren’t you in cuffs?”

“Ha! I have some in the house. How about I arrest you for being so goddamn beautiful.” He just took her in as she laughed again. Grace, who had been so locked up, trapped in her isolated bubble, and he’d alpha-male stomped all over it, popping it without even realizing it. Her laughter made him feel whole. “Ever, huh?”

A flash of a grin. “Yeah, you tease…ever, ever, ever.”

“Hmm, that’s a long fucking time, babe. So, it’s a good thing that I love you, Grace Harlan. More than I thought I could possibly love anyone, everlasting.”

“Always have to one-up me?” Those beautiful hands slid up to his shoulders, her palms mapping him along the way, then twined around his neck.

“I have to keep up or you’ll leave me in your cyber dust.”

Her face softened, and his body hardened. “You burst my bubble, my isolating, suffocating, quiet, and tragic bubble. Blew it up in the best way.” She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his neck, breathing him in, and his chest expanded with something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before, until her…joy.

She nuzzled him, then whispered, “Demolition man.” She breathed again. “Breacher.” Her mouth was on his skin, soft, needy, traveling up his throat to the line of his jaw where she bit him. “Direct-action juggernaut.”

His arms came around her, his breathing going ragged as her mouth found his. Before he could so much as catch his breath. His lips parted on a soft, startled moan as she shoved her fingers into his hair and held his head in her hands, rendering him immobile as she delivered a demanding, opened-mouthed, tongue-tangling kiss he had no intention of escaping.

This right here, Grace’s aggression, turned him on. Gone was that tentative woman who had once told him he was overwhelming her. Now it was a different and beautiful story that she washed over him like a rough, high tide, leaving him gasping for breath. He shifted closer, reciprocating her hot, ruthless kiss; his heart had already expanded to accept her inside him. Now it was nothing but logistics.

Fire pooled in his belly and lower, his surrender mingling with an undeniable need to possess her in every way imaginable. He meshed with her as she continued to consume his mouth the same way he wanted to ravish her body, with his lips, teeth, and tongue, and the craving for her grew stronger, a ravenous heat and hunger she always aroused in him.

He barely registered moving, navigating up the few steps into the kitchen. Pressing her first up against the wall where he thrust against her, and she moaned, then over to the counter. She broke the kiss, her breathing heavy. Glancing at the gun, she laughed. “You won’t need that, handsome. I’m already tied up…so lost in you, love.”

They stared at one another, both breathing hard, panting. Her green eyes were wide and dilated, her expression as dazed as his.

“Fuck…cyber ninja,” his voice a rasp. Then she drew him back to her. “You’re juggernauting me into overdrive, Grace, Allah help me, I never want to slow down again.”

She grabbed his shirt and dragged him into another kiss that twisted and turned him until he was so lost in her he had no idea what day it was.

“Bedroom,” she murmured, and he pulled her away from the counter and backstepped her to his room. They stumbled inside. Nash caged her against the wall, his breath already rough, his hands splayed wide on either side of her head like he was trying to hold the world back. She didn’t hesitate, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in as her chest pressed to his, the thin barrier of fabric only making him more aware of how warm she was, how soft.

His mouth found hers in a kiss that wasn’t easy or patient, it was fierce, claiming, like he’d been aching to taste her for years. She responded with equal hunger, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging gently, anchoring him to her. He groaned into her mouth, the sound dark and reverent.

The scent of her, clean skin, adrenaline, something uniquely Grace, filled his lungs like oxygen after a near-drowning. Her body fit to his with maddening perfection, and all he could think about was getting closer. Closer than this. Closer than skin. Into her freaking heart where he intended to stay for the rest of his life.

Without breaking the kiss, his hands found her hips, then slid lower, gripping the curve of her ass and pulling her hard against his aching groin. The thick press of his erection met the heat between her thighs, and she gasped softly, her hips moving in a slow, instinctive grind that nearly sent him over the edge.

He growled low in his throat, stripped her jeans down her legs, leaving her in some dick-hardening red lace. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You wore these for me, didn’t you?”

She smiled, dark, delicious. “Oh yes. Only for you, Nash, my love.”

“Grace…” he rasped, the sound half-worship, half-warning.

He slid his hand beneath the lace and found her already soaked, hot and pulsing, her body begging even as she gave herself over to him. He didn't give her time. Didn’t ease her in.

He wanted her shattered.

His fingers found her clit, and he circled once, just once, and she arched like he’d hit a live wire. Her breath caught, hips jerking, nails digging into his shoulders like she needed to anchor herself to something real.

“Nash…” Her voice broke. Desperate. Reverent. “Make me come for you. Please.”

Her back arched again, offering herself up like a prayer, and he lost it.

He grabbed the hem of her shirt and tore it over her head in one swift, savage motion, baring a crimson lace bra that made his vision blur.

She was flushed and breathless, eyes glassy with want, her skin glowing like she’d been lit from within, somewhere between surrender and detonation.

Then she moved.

Fast.

Before he could touch her again, she shoved him back, hard, until his shoulders hit the wall. His breath hitched, half-laugh, half-shock, but before he could react, her hands were on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she growled, “My turn,” and ripped his shirt apart with both hands, buttons scattering like bullets on tile. She pushed it off his shoulders with a low growl of approval, her palms skimming over his chest, down the ridges of his abs.

When she raked her nails over his skin, his hips bucked against her with a curse, his cock throbbing so hard it hurt.

Her fingers dipped lower, cupping him through his jeans, squeezing gently, then sliding down to roll his balls in her cupped palm.

He nearly blacked out.

“ Ya Allah , Grace?—”

His mouth parted, but then her lips were on his throat, biting, kissing, dragging heat across his skin. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there, like she needed her mouth on him to breathe.

“Fuck, Grace…”

She smiled against his neck and moved lower, her mouth grazing across his collarbone, then licking a path down to his chest.

When she found his nipple, she bit, just enough to make his hips jolt forward. He groaned, head knocking back against the wall as she soothed the sting with her tongue, breath ragged.

He barely registered her hands working his belt, but he felt the metal release, felt his pants drop as she crouched, dragging both jeans and boxers down in one swift motion.

His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, throbbing desperately for her mouth, and the sight of her there, on her knees, staring up at him with flushed cheeks and messy hair, nearly broke him. “Grace, I need your mouth, fuck me with that beautiful mouth,” he whispered giving her everything inside him, open, vulnerable, hers.

Her body heaved, her eyes tender and raging with need. Then she clamped over the aching tip. He choked on his own breath.

Her tongue swirled once, slow, filthy, and then she sucked him in deeper, one hand curling around the base while the other slid up to massage his balls.

“Fuck, Grace. Fuck—” His dick throbbed violently, so hard it hurt to delay it, but he needed this. Needed her like this. Sucking him with that beautiful mouth like he’d begged, taking all of him…she owned him and she knew it.

His hands tangled in her hair, hips twitching as she worked him over with exquisite control. He looked down at her, barely able to breathe, his whole body shuddering with the restraint it took not to come right then and there.

But he didn’t want to finish.

He wanted to consume.

With a guttural sound, he pulled her up by the shoulders and spun her, pressing her back to the same wall she’d just used on him.

He didn’t wait.

Didn’t ask.

He slipped his hand beneath the delicate lace, dragging the cup down to bare one perfect breast. Then he took her nipple between his lips, sucked hard, then soothed it with a flick of his tongue before biting gently, just enough to make her moan.

While his mouth worked her nipple, his fingers slipped between her thighs again, finding her clit like it was his to own.

He moved with ruthless precision, tight, controlled circles designed to dismantle her, while his other hand slid to her lower back, locking her against him.

She whimpered, hips grinding down against his hand, his mouth, his body, everything.

Then, breathless, reverent, ragged, he spoke against her nipple, the words vibrating through her in a hot, dirty hum.

“ Inti jameela jiddan lama tinqithi ‘ashani .” You’re so fucking beautiful when you come for me.

She gasped, shocked and shattered, her head tipping back, her body starting to shake.

His fingers never stopped.

His mouth dragged to her throat.

She broke.

Hard.

Her orgasm slammed into her like a wave cresting too fast, too high, her cry punching the air as her hips bucked, thighs trembling, breath lost. She sobbed his name as her body convulsed around nothing and everything, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Nash nearly lost it.

But instead of letting go, he pushed her further, grinding the heel of his hand against her clit while holding her still.

“Eyes on me,” he growled, lifting his head, his voice rough with need.

Her gaze snapped to his, wide and glassy and full of stunned, sacred fire.

“I want to see you lose it again…for me, Grace. All for me.” Her eyes were deep, green wells of passion and desire. “Are you aching for me as much as I’m dying for you?” he whispered.

“Nash,” she murmured. “God, yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes, God yes,”

“Give it to me. Give everything. I want everything.” His words just as much a sensual goad as his fingers and his mouth, she gasped, hips trembling, head thrown back as the orgasm slammed into her and pulled her under. “ Nashir, ” she sobbed his full name, striking him to his core as she possessed him body and soul, clinging to him, her entire body worshipping him.

A second release tore through her with brutal elegance, her back arching, mouth slack, breath catching as she came undone all over again, clutching his body like he was the only solid thing left in the world. Nash groaned at the feel of her silky heat, the way she writhed for him, because of him. It jacked him all the way up. He was so fucking gone . Nash watched every second of it. Devoured it. Her, undone, was the most powerful thing he’d ever witnessed.

They were both panting now, foreheads pressed, mouths brushing, drunk on heat and breath and the raw, perfect sound of shared hunger.

“You have no idea,” he whispered raggedly, “what that did to me.”

He’d missed her so much, the silence, the time it took her to figure out where she was headed and he was so goddamned grateful it was here, with him in DC.

She stood, bare and slick for him from those climaxes, the red lace of her panties discarded like a flag at her feet. She pressed against him, one beautiful breast free, the other still trapped in that fiery lace, brushing his chest, her mouth teasing along his jaw as she rolled her hips once, slow and deliberate, against the rigid length jutting up between them, his flesh caught between his taut body, and her hot, silky skin. The pressure and sensation nearly undid him.

He didn’t say a word. Just held her. Let her pulse settle around his fingers, let her heartbeat echo in his chest like it belonged there. Then she looked up at him, and everything changed.

He crushed her hard against the wall, her body flush against his. She looked up at him, her eyes soft and wide, glowing with everything she felt, everything she’d kept locked down was gone. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

It was deep and molten and full of everything he’d asked for —the gratitude, the hunger, the aching truth of how much she loved him. Her mouth moved over his with a kind of desperation, like she was pouring her heart into him one breath at a time.

She kissed him savagely with a primal abandonment, confident that he belonged to only her. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him close, her body pressing flush to his as her tongue slid against his with exquisite tenderness, and heat, and longing that made him groan into her mouth.

He felt it, every ounce of her affection, every broken piece she’d put back together just to offer him… herself.

By the time she finally pulled back, breath ragged, lips swollen, his heart wasn’t just pounding. It was hers.

He could’ve come just from that kiss. From the way she poured her soul into his mouth like she wasn’t afraid anymore. She didn’t have to say it. He already knew. He was hers.

He groaned as she rolled her hips against his cock again, and when her hand wrapped around him again, stroking him slowly, he barely held on.

“Grace,” he growled, his voice wrecked.

She didn’t let up, dragging her mouth down his neck, biting him just hard enough to make his knees threaten to give, his body begging to be inside her.

But she wasn’t done. Their eyes locked. “Grace,” he whispered, like it meant more than just her name.

This woman had cracked open something inside him, something raw and real and terrifying. He didn’t just want her body. He wanted her trust. Her breath. Her mind. Her scars. Everything.

He hissed, his grip tightening on her hands as she took him all the way in. She cupped his balls in one hand, squeezed just enough to make him hiss, then stroked his length with the other, slow and deliberate. “You're shaking,” she whispered against his throat.

With a rough groan, he pinned her to the wall, one hand tangled in her hair, the other dragging down her thigh as he hooked her leg around his hip.

“I’m going to fuck you like this for a lifetime,” he rasped. He needed to get inside of her, now, and it was that urgent, desperate thought that drove him to widen his stance, nudging her legs further apart, spreading her open for his taking as he swept his hand down her smooth, supple thigh. His thumb grazed the smoothness of her shaved groin, slid along wet folds of her sex, and dipped into the moist, giving entrance of her body.

She sucked in a sharp gasp as his fingers filled her, moaned loud and low when his thumb rubbed against her clit. He was satisfied to discover that she was still incredibly wet and aroused.

Unable to wait a moment longer to fuck her, he glided his cock along her sex as he pinned her with a long, unraveling, growling groan. Their eyes met and held, hers filled with dark desire, and he watched as she gasped and arched into him when he abruptly thrust into her, tight and aching, pulsing around him, a seemingly endless journey as he drove himself to the hilt. She was snug around him, like liquid satin gripping his shaft, and it was an intensely erotic sensation that made his head spin.

Her bare breasts were crushed against his chest, her leg curled around his hip, and the urge to possess her in the most elemental way possible overwhelmed him. Tangling his fingers in Grace’s soft, wild red hair, he cupped her jaw in his hand and slanted his mouth across hers in a hot, deep, tongue-tangling kiss.

She cried out, head falling back against the wall, her hips moving against his as lost as he was. “So tight, so hot, you grip me like you were made for me, you fucking gorgeous hellion.”

He ground into her, fucking her deep and slow, his thumb finding her clit again while his other hand held her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“I was made for you, you beautiful, sexy bastard. So hard, so thick. The way you take me only makes me need you more…harder, Nash, harder, more.” She was breathless and demanding. Her mouth parted on a moan, her body trembling again. “I want to watch you come for me,” she said, low and raw.

“You first, then me…last.” He kept going, fucking her into the wall, fingers working her clit until she gasped, broke, shattered for him all over again, tightening around his cock like a vice.

“ Lā tawaqqaf...a?tājak. Kullak, ” she whispered. Don’t stop. I need you. All of you.

The world could end, and he would keep going. He captured her mouth, his dick throbbing with mind-bending pleasure, all through his body, his balls, the tip of his nipples, his aching mouth.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, and her fingers dug into his muscles as he surged into her, again and again, tearing a moan from the back of her throat. His strokes became faster, longer, ruthlessly demanding, and a whole lot primal. With each thrust, he felt himself grow harder, thicker, until devotion and passion collided into white-hot heat and an all-consuming pleasure that threatened to engulf him. Lost in the rush of sensation, lost in her, he wrenched his mouth from hers, tossed his head back in pure ecstasy, and arched into her one last time, high and hard and infinitely deep. Her mouth parted, a soft sound escaping as she rocked her hips, adjusting, claiming, driving him mad. They were unraveling for each other.

A guttural growl tore from his chest, and his entire body shuddered as he came, harder and stronger than he could ever remember. His scorching release seemed to go on and on, wringing him dry and leaving him weak and spent. “ Grace ,” he groaned. “Grace… Grace … Grace.” His hips jerked, his body shook in complete and utter devastation and satisfaction as he emptied into her, his head dropping to her shoulder. They stayed like that. Breathless. Clinging. Trusting Grace had been the beginning of his salvation.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

He just held her, still buried inside her, skin damp, breathing unsteady, wondering what the hell had just happened. His world had gone quiet. No ghosts. No echoes. Just the sound of her breathing, the shape of her heartbeat pressed to his chest. For the first time in what felt like years, he wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d already landed. Right here with her.

She’d shattered him, then rebuilt him from the inside out. She’d given him back the parts of himself he thought were gone forever. His honor. His memories. The ghosts of his brothers, no longer lost to silence, but alive again in his heart where they belonged. Where they’d always belong.

Grace…God, Grace had wavered once, under the sheer weight of him, terrifying him, torturing him, and then giving him the gift of herself. He hadn’t known his own strength back then. Hadn’t realized how much he took up space, how much presence he carried. She could’ve walked away. Would’ve been justified. But she didn’t. She stayed. She’d pushed through every wall, his and hers, with that mind of hers. That genius. That quiet, relentless brilliance that didn’t just decode systems, it rewired them. Reclaimed them.

She’d reclaimed him.

Not the man the military made, or the shadow he’d become after. She remade him into someone he not only recognized but needed to be. Right now, with her wrapped around him, heart thundering against his, soul branded by her mouth and her mercy, he knew the truth. He was hers. Not just in body. But in blood, memory, and every beat of the life he’d almost stopped fighting for.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, breathless and broken open, still locked together in sweat and soul. But he knew one thing, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

He moved, bent down, gathered that body and powerful mind into his arms, cradled her like something precious and commanding. He walked on weak legs to his bed, wanting her in it, wanting her scent to overwhelm him every time he moved, turned in his sleep, woke to her, devoured her, breathed her in. He dropped with her down to the mattress, displacing pillows. He pulled her against him, to his side where she nestled against him with a satisfied groan.

“I’m going to need a moment,” she whispered. “You are a force of freaking nature with the skills of a master, Nash. I love you so fucking much. I need you in my life, every second of it.”

“Good, because you’re not leaving me again, babe,” he whispered into her hair, voice rough with everything he couldn’t put into words.

Grace nuzzled closer, her breath warm against his throat. “Not so fast. I do have some concessions,” she murmured. “Do I get a drawer in this place?” She paused dramatically. “The dealbreaker… do you have fiber?”

Nash huffed out a laugh, chest rumbling beneath her. “Christ, woman.”

For a moment, they just lay there, tangled and silent, the world narrowed to skin and breath. Then Grace stirred, her voice lazy. She lifted her head, her smile sly and smug and all kinds of wicked. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, still heavy-lidded from sex and satisfaction, but that brain of hers was already rebooting.

“Okay,” she conceded, lips quirking as she dragged a fingertip along the edge of his jaw, followed by soft kisses that landed not only on his jaw, but his heart. “I can live without the drawer. But I’m not negotiating on upload speed.”

He caught her hand in his, kissed her knuckles with mock solemnity, then cupped her face like she was his entire mission objective. His grin was slow, crooked, and completely besotted.

“I’ll buy you a whole fucking dresser,” he said. “I’ll bury the fiber line myself if I have to.”

Her answering grin went soft around the edges, her gaze catching his like gravity had a taste and it was him. “You’re home to me,” she whispered against his throat, the words breathless and soaked in truth.

He didn’t speak. Just held her tighter.

For a while, there was only the sound of their breathing. The weight of everything unspoken settled into the stillness.

Then, quietly, like a secret being handed over, Grace spoke again.

“It was all beige and concrete,” she murmured. “Flat roof. Dust-colored walls. Even the grass out front was artificial.”

Nash blinked, brow furrowing. “Where?”

“That stupid facility. Arizona. Middle of nowhere. I think they put it there to forget about it. To forget about me.”

She didn’t sound bitter. Just…quiet. Like the words were facts she’d never said out loud until now.

“There weren’t even birds,” she added. “Just the sound of humming fluorescents and dead air. I’d come home every night, and it was like the whole world had been paused.”

Nash was silent.

She looked up at him. “I think I started pausing with it.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, fingers gentle. “You didn’t disappear, Grace.”

“No,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “They kept me, even though I didn’t know it.” She inhaled, her breath warm and soft on his skin. Her explanation of everything that had happened at the Navy Yard rushed through him. He blinked. “You deserve everything they promised you. You’re staying here.”

“There’s that pushy alpha male.”

“I’m not wrong,” he growled.

She smiled, pressed a lingering kiss in the hollow of his neck. “The director engineered all of it, in collaboration with Caspari.”

“Fucking CIA,” he growled.

“He said the evidence I uncovered would change how NCIS audits its entire contractor system. I told him good. Then I told him I wanted DC. The juiciest job in the building.”

He pulled her close, kissed her temple. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” she said. “I’m just done being buried.”

He stilled. Then kissed her again, this time just over her heart.

“I wanted to be here,” she added softly. “With you.”

He looked at her, and whatever came next in the conversation… it could wait.

She nudged, eyes shining. “I can’t stop squeeing about my whole fucking dresser.”

Nash barked out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her like he couldn’t hold her close enough.

“Woman, I’d build you a walk-in closet if that’s what it takes.”

Her head dropped to his chest, laughter warm against his skin. “Actually…”

He tensed. “Uh-oh.”

She looked up at him, feigning innocence. “How do you feel about me taking over the garage?”

He blinked. “My garage?”

“You don’t really use it for anything, do you?” she asked, already smug. “I mean, aside from brooding, punching things, and storing your tactical kettlebells?”

He scowled. “That is a sacred space.”

She arched a brow. “So that’s a no?”

“I have a pull-up bar out there,” he added darkly. “Pull-up bar. Sexy jock. Nothing else. Who needs a closet now?”

She narrowed her eyes, her voice a puff of air with a strangled sound. “So your plan is to distract me with flexing?”

“I have a proven track record,” he said, deadpan.

She traced a slow finger down his chest. “Can I pick out the jock?” She leaned in, her breasts rubbing against his chest, his skin that was suddenly hot, tantalizing lips hovering near his ear. “With all those confusing straps, I volunteer to help you into it.” Her breathing deepened, her mouth grazing his jaw, her hand sliding down to his already hardening cock.

Nash groaned, low and lethal. “Hmm. Out of it, you wicked woman.” He turned, rolling on top of her, settling his hips between her thighs. “That sounds like a fucking amazing plan to me.”

They didn’t speak for a while afterward. Just lay tangled, breathing. Somewhere between the second time and the second wind, Grace ended up with her arms folded on his chest, her chin propped on them, watching him with a lazy, catlike smirk.

Her gaze drifted over him, this man stretched out beneath her like a mirage come to life. The olive tone of his skin was still flushed from exertion, his muscles cut deep and fluid, as if he’d been carved from heat and stone. Black lashes curled against high, proud cheekbones. A straight nose. That jaw, taut and masculine, shadowed with stubble that would leave marks if he got aggressive again. She hoped he would.

He looked like he belonged to another time. Another kingdom. A desert prince with calloused hands and dangerous eyes.

“You are so devastatingly handsome,” she murmured. “All desert sheik...and that scent of yours...” She inhaled softly, as if it was still clinging to her skin. “I’ve never gotten it out of my nostrils. Or my blood.”

It was true.

His scent was this perfect storm of oud and heat, like smoked cedar, black cardamom, a trace of dark musk, and something richer. Older. Earthbound. Her pulse quickened just breathing it in. Every time he moved, it teased her, marked her. It had gotten into her clothes. Her sheets. Her memory.

She wondered if it would ever leave.

She hoped it wouldn’t.

Then, casually, like she wasn’t still unraveling for him, she asked, “So what are we doing today, besides recovering from cardiac sex?”

He chuckled, deep and slow. “No joke. You’re going to kill me.” He turned his head, eyes dark and half-lidded. “But before I expire, I want to take you to my favorite spot,” Nash said, brushing his knuckles down her arm. “Show you my stomping grounds.”

“I’d love that.”

“One thing I know for sure, Grace Harlan,” he murmured, breathless and grinning, “life with you will never be boring.”

He was right about that.

Happily ever after wasn’t quiet or polished or predictable.

It was hot sex up against the bedroom wall.

It was gut-deep laughter after the fallout, after the freefall, after the knee buckling love had caught them in its gravitational pull.

It was choosing each other, again and again, through the chaos, the scars, the silence… and the spark.

It was this.

Exactly this.