Chapter 16
Harper
The first thing I noticed was the hush. Not just the absence of fear, or the hush that came from living in a world where nothing wanted to eat you alive, but a deeper, almost holy quiet.
I was wrapped in Jess’s arms, head pillowed on his chest, his heartbeat thudding beneath my ear in time with the distant ticks of the kitchen clock.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I ended and he began. I didn’t want to know.
Sunlight crept across the bed in a razor-thin slash, filtered through the split in the window curtains.
Dust motes danced like tiny fairies, shifting in the stream of morning light.
I reached out, running my hand through the bright, warm band, and the motes scattered and then, just as quickly, realigned.
The skin on my wrist looked translucent, veins glowing blue in the gold.
When I flexed my fingers, I caught the hint of a tremor—not from fear, but from the sudden, silly giddiness of knowing that this was all real.
I closed my fist and felt the press of Jess’s arm around my waist. His hand cupped my hip, splayed warmth with his thumb resting in the soft hollow at the top of my thigh. There was nothing sexual in the touch—not yet. Just a claim, as old as the world and twice as sure.
“You awake?” he said, voice thick with sleep and something heavier.
I smiled into his chest. “Barely. You?”
“Uh huh. Just wanted to be sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
I propped my chin on his pec and stared at him. “If this is a dream, I wouldn’t wanna wake up.”
He grinned, slow and lopsided, the lines around his eyes softening. “It’s nice to be living a dream and not a nightmare anymore, bluebonnet.”
The name. It fizzed across my skin, sweeter than any pet name had a right to be. “Guess you’re droppin’ Prima and going straight for bluebonnet, huh?” I asked, with a tease in my voice. I acted irritated with the nickname, but I think he knows I kind of love it.
“It suits you,” he murmured, brushing the backs of his knuckles down my cheek. “Your bluebonnet eyes never left my memory.”
I didn’t say anything because words would have just gotten in the way.
Instead, I lifted my leg over his hip and straddled him; the sheet slithered down to pool at our knees.
Jess’s hands came up automatically, palms to my ribs tracing their contour as he caressed my sides.
I leaned down, pressed my lips to his, and let the kiss build from soft to urgent.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, voice low and fierce. “I’d take a thousand bullets before I’d let anything hurt you again. Fuck, Harper,” he said. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
His hands—those massive, calloused hands—cupped my face like I was something sacred, something he fucking worshipped.
I was straddling him, my thighs pressing into his hips, and his naked chest was a furnace against mine.
The heat of him was intoxicating. His palms slid down my sides, rough yet tender, and I couldn’t help but arch into his touch.
My fingers tangled in his hair, holding myself up on my elbows as I hovered over him.
His fingertips grazed my ass, just a feather-light caress, and I fucking whimpered.
I could feel him—his cock—hardening beneath me, pressing insistently against my soaked pussy.
I didn’t even try to stop myself; I rolled my hips, grinding against him, craving the friction.
My wetness was already slicking his cock, and damn, the sensation was electric.
His voice, low and gravelly, spilled filth into my ear, and it drove me wild.
“The way your pussy is dripping down my cock makes me want to do the nastiest things to you, bluebonnet.”
Then his arms wrapped around me, muscular and unyielding, and he flipped me onto my back like I weighed nothing.
I gasped and gave a giggle, my breath hitching as his mouth descended on me.
His lips were relentless—trailing kisses down my neck, nipping at my collarbone, before he locked onto my nipple.
Holy shit. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak, and I cried out as I arched into his mouth, my hands clawing at his scalp.
He released it with a wet pop, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud before moving to the other breast to give it the same brutal attention.
I was trembling, my legs spreading wider as he worked his way down my body. His tongue circled my navel, teasing, taunting, before he reached the apex of my thighs. His hands gripped my legs, spreading me open, and I was exposed, dripping and aching for him.
“Hold these legs open for me, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Let me see every inch of this perfect fucking pussy. Christ, you’re so wet for me. Look at you just begging for my touch.”
And then he dove in.
His tongue was a secret weapon, plunging into me, lapping at my slick walls like he was starving for it.
I shoved my elbows beneath me, propping myself up so I could watch him feast on me.
His eyes met mine, dark and wicked, and stars, the way he smirked as he devoured me.
It was too much. His tongue flattened against my clit, and I jerked, a whimper tearing from my throat.
But he didn’t stop. No, he kept going, fucking me with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, until I was a shaking, moaning mess.
Then he crawled up my body, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss so possessive it left no room for doubt that I was his.
His cock, thick and throbbing, pressed against my entrance, and he didn’t hesitate.
He thrust into me in one brutal stroke, and I shouted his name, my head slamming back into the pillow.
He filled me completely, stretching me, taking me so deep I felt him in my very soul.
My hips rose to meet his, every thrust driving me closer to the edge.
Our bodies moved together like we were made for each other, and the power of it—Jesus Christ—it was overwhelming.
His knot swelled inside me, locking us together, and I came undone, my orgasm crashing over me like a roaring tidal wave.
He grunted, his own release spilling into me, and I clung to him, my nails digging into his back as he claimed every inch of me.
We stayed like that, locked together, our breaths ragged, sweat slicking our skin. His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, there was nothing else—just him, just me, just this amazing perfect connection that felt like it would never end.
And it didn’t end.
He pulled back slightly, his cock still buried deep inside me, and his lips crashed into mine again.
His hands slid under my ass, lifting me slightly, and he began to move again, slow and deliberate, dragging his cock against that sweet spot inside me.
I moaned into his mouth, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
“You’re mine,” he growled against my lips, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Every fucking inch of you belongs to me.”
And I wholeheartedly agreed. I belonged to him; body, soul, and everything in between.
His hands gripped my hips, guiding me as he pounded into me, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body.
I could feel another orgasm building, hot and urgent, and I clutched at him, desperate for release.
“Come for me, Harper,” he commanded, his voice rough, and holy crap, I obeyed.
My orgasm hit me like a freight train, tearing through me with such intensity that I screamed, my body shaking uncontrollably.
He followed me over the edge, his cock pulsing inside me as he emptied himself into me once more.
We collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and cum, and I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and I knew, oh yes, I knew, there was nothing that would ever compare to this.
He was mine, and I was his, and that was perfect.
For a while, we just lay there, tangled up and panting, his forehead pressed to mine.
“I love you,” he whispered, so quiet I almost missed it.
I smiled, running my fingers through the sweaty tangle of his hair. “I love you more.”
“That’s mathematically impossible,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.
“You’re not the only one who can do math,” I shot back, grinning like a kid.
He laughed, then buried his face in my neck and just breathed, as if he could live on nothing but the scent of my skin.
Eventually, the sunlight shifted and blazed a stripe across the bed. I sank into its warmth, feeling the slow melt of contentment settle into my bones.
For the first time since I could remember, I was happy.
Not the borrowed happiness I’d faked for strangers, not the brittle kind I’d rationed out in stolen moments.
This was the real thing.
And I never wanted to let it go.
When we finally rolled out of bed, it was past eight, and I felt like I’d slept for a year.
The pain in my knee was just a dull echo, the old bruises faded to faint shadows, and I could walk without flinching.
Jess made coffee, strong enough to strip the enamel from your teeth, and I drank it black, just to prove I was as tough as he was.
I wore nothing but his battered college t-shirt and a pair of black leggings.
I’d pulled my hair into a high ponytail, which hung down my back in a riot of blonde curls. He looked at me like I was a miracle.