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“I want—” she cuts off. “I need—Holt—you.”

“You’ve got me, baby.” I curl my fingers to stroke that sweet spot inside her I’ve never forgotten about as I suck at the skin of her neck. She cries out, her body tightening in pulsing clenches as she falls apart in my arms.

I pull my fingers from inside her, wasting no time working at the buckle of my belt. I pop the button of my jeans and shove at the zipper. I briefly—very briefly think of a condom. And then my tip connects with her warm heat, and all thought just vanishes. She’s the only one I’ve ever been bare with, and it was so long ago. I forgot what it feels like. The intensity.

She pushes her hips into me as I shove my length inside her. I’m rooted in one swift motion. But it doesn’t stop the wild whirl of desperate need. If anything, it’s heightened.

Maybe it’s the sound of her sharp cry. Maybe it’s the bite of her nails in my shoulders. Maybe it’s the clench of her gripping me like she never wants to let me go…

Whatever it is, there’s no stopping it. No fighting the wild that takes over as I pull out and slam inside her. I do it again and again until we’re wet with sweat and I’m grunting into the flesh of her neck as she cries into the side of my head for more. Deeper. Harder.

I think we’re both trying to convince ourselves that this is real. It’s happening. After all this time and all the life that stands between. We’re finally back to this—where we belong.

I fuck her harder, hotter, wilder. Her hands are in my hair now and she’s moaning my name. She’s given up meeting my thrusts and is taking every stroke instead.

“You feel so good,” I grunt out the words as my lips search for hers. I kiss her hard, fucking her mouth just as I fuck her body. “Like home.”

“Oh, God, Holt—I’m going to come.”

“Let go, baby,” I urge, my tempo quickening. “Come for me, Faye.”

She tightens around me as a sound of pleasure and pain crawls from the depths of her. It’s my new favorite sound. Part sigh, part cry, part moan. And then she comes apart. Fucking perfection.

The feel of her coming on my dick sets me off. My pace becomes choppy, my thrusts wilder than before. Her ass slaps against the wall as our mouths war, tongues and teeth clashing in a kiss that feasts on the years between us until nothing exists but the wreckage of us and the future I’m confident we’ll have to rebuild all that we’ve always been meant to be.

I swallow the sound of her sharp cry as I root myself deep inside her to spill years of pent-up need, anger, resentment, and love. I let everything I’ve kept contained for over a decade pour inside her, kissing her through it all.

And then we both crash back down to reality. Hard.

She stares up at me with wide honey-brown eyes and kiss-swollen lips. We’re still connected. I’m still inside her. But it feels uncertain now. Like we’re standing on glass over a canyon and it’s cracking. Like at any moment it might shatter and we’ll be left to fall.

“Holt—” She croaks, swallows hard, and stutters, “I—we⁠—”

Her hands press into my chest.

She’s trying to push me away.

I can’t let her, so I thrust my hips into hers, reminding her that I’m still inside her.

Her lips fall open on a sharp gasp. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t look away as I grip her face between my hands. I peer into those warm eyes that have always been the color of home, and tell her firmly, “I never stopped loving you, Faye. I’ll never stop loving you. And this, us—it’s real. We’re real, and I’m never walking away from it again. Do you understand me?”

Her eyes bounce between mine for so long, I’m about to repeat myself when she finally whispers, “Yes.”

“Good.” I brush my lips over hers, because I need just one more taste. “Do you need a minute?”

She nods, her eyes glassy. She’s trying hard to cling to composure.

The last thing I want to do is let her go. To let her think.

I want to smother her with me.

Against everything inside me that demands I stay rooted just where I am, I pull myself from her warmth. She slides down the wall, shaky hands knotting her robe even as she watches me tuck myself back into my pants.

Then she makes her escape. Halfway up the stairs, I call her name. She turns back to look at me, and I can see the emotion swimming in her eyes as she clutches her robe. She’s trying to contain all the pieces of her that threaten to drift away on the raging wave of her emotions.

I warn her, “A minute, Faye. I’m only giving you a minute, and then I’m coming for you.”

She nods but doesn’t speak. I watch as she hurries up the stairs. Duke follows.