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I know he sequestered himself in here tonight to think through the next moves for Baron leadership. Decisions that still have to be made so that the fraternity and all of us inside of it can move forward. But right now I only want him to feel that I’m with him. No matter what comes next.

I lean forward and kiss him, sliding my tongue through his parted lips. He answers immediately, deeper, hungrier. His fingers dig into my hips, then ghost up my sides, pushing my tank top higher until my breasts are bare to the cool air. Warm thumbs stroke over my nipples, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight down my belly and between my legs. I rock against him, feeling the hard length of him already pressing up through his jeans.

I ease down his body, sliding to my knees between his spread thighs. My hands go to his belt, unbuckling it with steady fingers, then freeing his thick erection from his pants. He throbs in my grip, heavy and hot.

“Christ,” he grunts, hips rising as I lean in and lick the tip, tasting the salty precum already beading there. A low sound rumbles in his chest as I take him into my mouth, slow and deliberate, tongue working along the underside while I stroke what I can’t fit. His fingers thread in my hair until they’re curled tight against my scalp. It burns, and heat builds between my legs. I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper.

“Arianette…” My name leaves him rough, almost reverent. I keep going, savoring the way his thighs tense under my hands, the way his breathing grows heavier. When I feel him getting closer, he nudges me, saying, “I want to come inside of you.”

I pull off with a soft, wet sound and climb back into his lap. He helps me shove my shorts aside. I position myself over him and sink down slowly, taking every thick inch until he’s buried to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation.

“Your pussy feels like it was made for me.” His hands grip my hips hard as I begin to ride him, rising and falling in a steady, deep rhythm. The leather chair creaks beneath us. The lamp casts shifting shadows across the walls where the murder board used to hang. I brace my hands on his shoulders and move faster, chasing the building heat between us. Timothy thrusts up to meet me, one hand sliding up my spine to tangle in my curls, the other staying locked on my hip to guide every roll of my body.

“Look at me,” he says, voice low and commanding. Our eyes lock as the pleasure tightens. “Do you know how I think about this every day? Daybreak to nightfall. I have this gift that was given to me.” His fingers tease the rings in my nipples and my back arches. “Not once in the time before you came here did I ever think I’d find something like this–that you would truly be mine.”

It’s his mouth that tips me over the edge, those sexy words that hit me in the heart before traveling to my pussy. I come hard, clenching around him with a broken cry, and he follows almost immediately, burying himself deep and pulsing inside me with a guttural sound against my throat.

We stay like that—me still straddling him, his arms wrapped tightly around my back, both of us breathing hard in the quiet library. His lips brush my temple, then the curve of my cheek.

“I’m with you,” I whisper against his skin. “Whatever you decide about the Barons… about any of it. I’m with you–always.”

His arms tighten around me, and for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like something we have to survive.

It just feels like ours.

The next day, we fall back into something that almost resembles a routine.

Classes are still in progress, which means our professors have assigned readings and papers as though we didn’t spend the weekend deep beneath Forsyth, focused on more important things than homework. You’d think they’d appreciate the fact that we stopped a serial killer, but I guess that kind of detail doesn’t faze academia. Nope. Exams and end-of-term papers are due like clockwork.

Even in dance class, after I pull on my leotard and tights and lace up my pointe shoes, Madame Duval has nothing to say, focused on reviewing our performance over the weekend. I try to convince myself that this is evidence that my life has somehow returned to normal, but that’s impossible. What’s normal in this town anyway?

There’s gossip, of course, because this is Forsyth and there will always be gossip. People talk about Amber's arrest, about the girls being found beneath the cemetery, about the Barons, about me. Some stories are close enough to the truth to make me uncomfortable, while others are so wildly wrong that I almost find them entertaining. But underneath all of it, there’s something unfamiliar.

Relief.

It radiates off almost everyone on campus, but particularly the girls. Even those who don't know the whole story understand enough to know that a serial killer has been stopped. For once, Forsyth doesn't feel like it is waiting for the next body to turn up.

“It’s fucking weird,” I overhear one of my classmates say. “Like, maybe I can walk to the library at night without holding a can of pepper spray.”

Maybe. It’s still a college campus after all.

But while everyone goes back to normal, talking about parties and hanging out at the bars, I’m worried about Timothy.

He didn’t come back to bed with me after we were together in the library and he wasn’t around for breakfast either. I tell myself he needs space. After everything that happened, I understand we’re all processing it in our own ways. I also know Timothy well enough to recognize when he is carrying something alone, and the silence makes me more nervous than I want to admit.

“You ready for dinner?” Hunter asks, peeking his head into the bedroom. I’ve been working on a paper since we got back from campus. “The cook said it’s ready.”

“Yep.” I close my book and rub Ares on the head. “Maybe we can take him on a walk afterwards?”

Hunter grins and kisses me on the forehead once I get close. “He’d love that.”

See? Normal.

Damon has just come in the side door. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the hook.

“I can’t wait to be done with this lab. It’s too fucking late in the day.” His hand thrusts out and grabs me by the skirt, dragging me close. I tilt my head up, and he gives me a slow kiss. “How was your day?”

“Good.” I smile. “Better now.”