Page 25 of Unearthed Dreams (Sable Point #3)

The truth of it settled between us like a physical thing. Outside, a car passed, its headlights briefly illuminating the space before leaving us in the dim glow of the bar lights. Somewhere, that tap kept dripping, marking seconds that felt heavier than they should.

“I was going to sell it,” he admitted. “The bar. Leave town.”

“And now?”

His thumb brushed over my knuckles, the small touch sending shivers down my spine. “Now... I don’t know. Everything feels different.”

“Different how?”

His eyes found mine in the low light, and the intensity there stole my breath. “Like maybe I’m tired of running. Of pushing away good things because I think I don’t deserve them.”

I swallowed hard. “And what good things would those be?”

Instead of answering, he released my hand and moved around the bar. Each step was deliberate, measured, like he was giving me time to retreat if I wanted to. But I stood my ground, heart thundering in my chest as he approached.

His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with a gentleness that made my eyes burn. “You,” he said roughly. “You’re the good thing, Charlie. And I’m done pushing you away. ”

I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as his thumb traced the curve of my cheek. The bar was silent except for our breathing and that steady drip from somewhere behind us, marking moments that felt sacred in their simplicity.

“I missed you,” I whispered, the words barely a breath between us. “This whole week, I wanted to...”

“I know.” His other hand found my waist, drawing me closer. “I wanted you there. Every fucking minute in that hospital room, I wanted you there.”

When I opened my eyes, his face was so close I could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, count every silver strand in his beard. His expression was raw, open in a way I’d never seen before—like he’d finally laid down all his armor and was letting me see everything he kept hidden.

“I’m here now,” I said, sliding my hands up his chest to rest over his heart. Through his black t-shirt, I could feel its steady rhythm, strong and sure despite everything.

“Charlie...” My name came out like a prayer, rough yet reverent.

Then his mouth was on mine, and everything else faded.

This wasn’t like our first kiss in the storage room, desperate and hungry.

This was slower, deeper—like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into the gentle press of his lips against mine.

My fingers curled into his shirt as he pulled me closer, one hand tangling in my hair while the other splayed across my lower back.

I tasted salt and realized he was crying. Or maybe I was. It didn’t matter. We held each other in the quiet darkness of the bar and let everything we’d been holding back flow between us like water.

The path to the small apartment above the bar was riddled with missteps—fumbling feet and hands and muttered curses. But when we made it to the studio and Kai kicked the door shut behind him? The energy shifted. Intensified. We stared at each other, chests heaving.

So much was left unspoken between us, but the way he was looking at me was the manifestation of every love scene I’d ever written.

He was equal parts tortured and enraptured. Honestly, it looked like he wanted to devour me whole.

“On the bed,” he said. His voice was low and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

I reached behind me to unzip my dress, but his rough voice stopped me.

“Leave it. If anyone’s undressing you, it’s me.”

The need that thrummed between his words was new, like something had shifted in the time we’d been apart.

“O-okay.”

I slowly retreated toward the bed, taking small steps backward until my knees hit the edge. I sat, planting my hands on the mattress on either side of my hips.

“Don’t move.”

Kai’s tone brooked no argument.

The next few seconds stretched on for hours, for days, for eons. I tracked each deliberate step he took toward me—the way his brow furrowed, his eyes darkened, the bulge in his pants grew.

Suddenly, his dark black boots peeking out beneath frayed denim were toe-to-toe with my peep-toe kitten heels.

“Lie down. ”

It was almost as if I had no control over my body.

My eyes fixed on the ceiling, cataloging each dip and groove in the plaster as I tried to ignore the sounds of rustling clothing and belt buckles clanging on the floor.

“Seems like you’re breathing awful hard, pretty girl. You okay?”

“Mhm. Yep. Fine,” I squeaked.

“Good.”

I braced myself—not sure what for, but I did. The first sensation to hit me wasn’t what I’d expected, despite not knowing what to expect. His hands were warm—steady, sure, but not rushing. Like he had all the time in the world to learn me.

His fingers traced along my collarbone before hooking in the neckline of my dress. With agonizing slowness, he pulled the fabric down, watching intently as my breasts spilled from the cups of my bra. The cool air pebbled my skin as his heated gaze raked over me.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, before leaning down to press reverent kisses across the swell of my breasts. Each touch of his lips sent sparks shooting down my spine.

Then came that strange feeling. The drag. The pressure. Deliberate. A beat behind the pulse pounding in my ears.

I felt it before I saw it—a cool drag along the curve of my breast. My breath hitched, body already wound tight from the tension of the night.

I thought it was his finger at first, but there was a strange, slow pressure behind it. Not painful. Just... intentional.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept going, tracing something along my skin like he was signing his name on me. When I looked down, I saw it. Red ink in gentle curves. A word? A mark? I couldn’t tell.

“A pen?” I asked, a startled laugh caught in my throat.

“It’s not permanent,” he murmured, mouth grazing the edge of my jaw. “But you’ll remember it.”

I shivered. It wasn’t the ink—it was the fact that he could make me feel claimed with something so simple. So soft. My skin burned beneath the lines, like it knew he’d touched something deeper than the surface.

He admired his work, and I swore I saw pride in his eyes. Like I was his blank page, and he was just getting started.