44. Chapter 44 #3
“Fuck,” I hear him groan quietly, his tempo increasing. His hand closes over my breast, thumb dragging slowly over my nipple, pulling a soft moan from me, while his mouth follows the line of my throat, teeth grazing, then softening—like he can’t decide whether to devour me or memorize me.
The pleasure builds fast, hot and sharp and blinding. It coils tight in my core, in my spine, his thrusts turning more urgent, more erratic.
“Boss,” I gasp, my hands on his shoulder blades, nails digging into the muscle there like that could stop me from falling. “I’m… I’m gonna—”
His breath breaks, a rough, guttural sound tearing from his chest, his rhythm stuttering as his body tightens above me.
“Fuck… me too,” he manages, voice wrecked, barely holding on.
And then I fall apart with a cry, my whole body throbbing around him, clenching, pulsing, pleasure ripping through me like lightning.
He follows instantly, a strangled groan spilling from his lips as his hips drive into me in a broken rhythm—once, twice, three times—before he stills, buried deep, his body locking up as release crashes through him.
I force my eyes open, desperate to watch him in this moment that holds nothing for him but pure, undiluted ecstasy. And, God, is he beautiful.
When he finally slips out of me, he disposes of the condom before lying beside me and pulling me into his arms like this is exactly where I belong.
For a while, neither of us speaks as Boston’s fingers drift lazily up and down my arm, his breathing finally evening out. I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“I wish it was simple,” I whisper into the quiet.
His hand stills.
I lift my head enough to look at him, and judging by his expression, he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
Us.
“I mean, your mom still has to make it through the diversion program,” I say, tracing absent circles over his sternum. “I still have to walk into Archer’s house tomorrow and pretend I haven’t…” I let out a shaky laugh. “Pretend my entire world didn’t shift on its axis.”
His jaw tightens. “You don’t have to do this, Stormy.”
“Yes,” I say softly. “I do. For now.”
His brows pull together. “For now?” he repeats carefully.
I nod. “For now.”
I don’t know exactly what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know how many pieces of my old life will survive what comes next, or what new shape my future will take once the dust settles. But for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t hollow me out from the inside.
I slide my hand against his cheek. “I meant what I said, Boss,” I say, my eyes pinned to his—dark in the dim light of the room. “I love you.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“I know things aren’t figured out,” I whisper. “I know this won’t be easy.”
I tip my head up until my lips are just an inch from his.
“But I think…” I smile through the lingering ache in my chest. “I think this is the first time in my life I’ve actually been excited about my future.”
He blinks, his expression a mix of hope and something that looks a little like fear. But then he leans toward me and kisses me. Soft and unhurried. Making this moment right here count.
Eventually, reality tugs at us. Work in the morning. My parents. Expectations.
The world outside Boston’s apartment.
We get dressed at the slowest pace imaginable—interrupted at regular intervals by one of us stealing a kiss from the other—before Boston walks me out to my car, the summer air cool against my overheated skin.
Neither of us seems to know how to say goodbye anymore. Even see you later seems outside the realm of doable now. All I want to do is get back inside his apartment and stay.
He leans down to the driver’s side window, hands braced against the roof.
“Text me to let me know you made it home safe?”
I smooth my hand over his scruffy cheek and nod. “Yeah.”
He nods. Then swallows, his gaze dropping away for the briefest moment before it settles back on mine, suddenly uncertain.
“You should probably know something,” he says.
My insides squeeze uncomfortably at his tone, and for a half second, my mind races through the possibilities.
Something that happened at court today?
His mom or siblings?
Something terrible. Something he should’ve told me sooner.
“Yeah?” I ask him carefully.
Boston rubs the back of his neck, looking decidedly uneasy. Then his lips curve into the smallest smile.
“I love you, Skye,” he says like he’s testing the shape of it, like he’s surprised he’s even allowed to say it out loud.
My heart feels too big for my chest, my whole body suddenly urging me to crawl right out of that window and back into his arms.
“Good,” I whisper through a watery laugh. “Because it would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”
“Just a little,” Boston says, grinning.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I glance once in the rearview mirror.
Boston is still standing there.
Watching until my taillights disappear.
Somewhere between his apartment and home, I realize my cheeks hurt from smiling.
Finally, my future doesn’t feel like something happening to me.
It feels like something I might actually get to choose.