CHAPTER 34
BLAIRE
I lingered in Colt’s doorway, watching the rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets. Ruby had drifted back to sleep nearly an hour ago, and I felt desperate to get back to him.
The hinges betrayed me with a soft creak as I eased the door wider. Colt’s eyes snapped open, disoriented for a heartbeat before they found me.
“What’s wrong?” The question tumbled from his lips, rough with sleep but sharp with concern.
I slipped inside, closing the door behind me with a quiet click before climbing into bed to face him. Before I could speak, his hands found my waist, drawing me against the warmth of him.
“Strawberry,” he whispered, his voice cracking on the word as his gaze burned across my face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, and his entire body went rigid against mine. His fingers dug into my flesh hard enough to bruise.
“What?” His blue eyes widened with such raw panic that my heart stuttered in my chest.
“I’m still angry with you,” I said, my voice breaking on the last word as I trailed my finger over his jaw.
“I know,” he choked out.
His hands trembled violently as they clutched at me, and when his eyes darted away, I saw the fear lurking beneath his eyes that I’d vanish like smoke between his desperate fingers, leaving him alone in the wreckage of us.
My chest cracked open at the sight, a physical pain that made me gasp. His fear gutted me, a mirror reflecting back every doubt I’d ever swallowed.
What if he was right? What if staying was just another promise I couldn’t keep?
The thought alone made something primal and desperate claw up my throat, threatening to tear me apart from the inside.
My hands shook as I pressed them to Colt’s chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer against me.
I wanted to keep every promise I ever made to him, and I was so scared.
But his heart kept beating beneath my palm, steady and sure where mine faltered.
Everything I needed lay within him and Ruby, and the certainty of it crashed into me like lightning.
I loved Colt Calloway with a desperation that terrified me.
I had always loved him, would always love him, even if it meant I bled for it for the rest of my life.
And I needed him to know that.
I closed my hand around the strawberry charm at my throat, squeezing until the little jagged edges bit deep into my palm.
This tiny piece of metal was everything—my surrender, my homecoming, my declaration.
With every heartbeat, the charm pressed against my skin like a brand, each pulse a reminder.
I chose him. I chose them. And somehow, through all the years and heartbreak and impossible choices, he had always, always chosen me.
“I love you,” I said, the words breaking free like a dam finally giving way. My voice cracked but didn't falter as I pressed my forehead against his. “God, Colt, I've tried so hard not to. I’ve run and I’ve hidden and I’ve lied to myself for years, but I love you.”
He stared at me, blue eyes flaring wide with disbelief.
“Blaire.” His voice cracked on that single syllable, as if it contained every prayer he’d ever whispered into the darkness.
I unclenched my fist, the strawberry charm having left angry red indentations in my palm, and dragged his calloused hand up until he could touch the necklace against my throat.
His fingers shook violently as he gripped the metal, the warmth of his skin burning against my collarbone.
His eyes locked with mine, raw and so exposed, silently begging me not to take this away.
“You make me brave, Colt,” I whispered, my voice breaking on his name.
His face twisted, jaw clenching as if my words physically hurt him.
A growl tore from his throat as his hand slid around my neck, fingers digging into my hair with bruising urgency.
He yanked me toward him until we both gasped, and then his mouth crashed against mine.
I welcomed the sting, the brutal pressure of his kiss branding me, claiming every breath I took.
His teeth scraped my bottom lip, and I moaned, clawing at his shoulders.
“Don’t ever fucking leave me again.” His words burned against my skin as he dragged his mouth over my jaw. “I have never known how to love anyone but you, Blaire.”
I pushed against his chest, gentle but insistent, until he fell back, his dark hair splayed across the pillow.
The sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, caught on my breasts as I peeled it over my head.
I hooked my thumbs into my panties, dragging them down my thighs as quickly as I could, feeling his eyes burn into every inch of newly exposed skin.
Then I slid one leg over his body, straddling him, and his fingers dug into my thighs.
I bent over him, hair falling like a curtain around our faces, and kissed him hard. I needed him to feel the truth of me, of us.
His hands tightened on my thighs, fingers digging in so hard I knew I’d wear the shape of him for hours. Our kiss was a battlefield, a prayer, a last stand. He shuddered when I bit his lower lip, and the sound he made was the kind that lingered in the air and slithered down my skin.
I broke away for air, and he followed, his hand cradling the back of my neck, needy and unashamed.
We barely surfaced between kisses. His need was frantic, but it was mine, too.
I reached down, thumbed the waistband of his boxers, and he caught my wrist, eyes blown wide. “You sure?” he whispered, and it sounded like he was asking for permission to believe in us, permission to hope.
“Always,” I whispered as I kissed him again, slower this time.
I could feel every inch of him, hot and hard beneath me, and my fingers shook as I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his cock. I wanted to map the expanse of him and claim it as mine, the only place I’d ever belonged.
I didn’t need acres of Tennessee soil or fields of wildflowers beneath an endless sky.
He was my home.
He groaned, deep in his chest, and every muscle in his body seemed to tense under me.
I moved my hand up and down the length of him, slow at first, dragging out the moment until I felt the tremor in his thighs, the strain of his hips fighting for more.
His breath came in ragged pulls, every exhale a plea he tried to swallow.
I watched his face as I stroked him, fascinated by the shifting storm behind his eyes.
I’d seen Colt Calloway furious, laughing, wild, and broken, but never undone like this. Never with his defenses stripped bare.
His eyes tracked my hand’s movement, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip.
The raw hunger in his gaze sent a thrill of power through me.
I ached to savor him slowly, to build our need until neither of us could stand it, but I was too greedy.
I needed to feel him inside me, to erase the years between us and silence the whispers of doubt I still saw lingering in his eyes.
I pushed up onto my knees and lined us up.
He lifted his head off the pillow to follow the motion, his gaze dropping to where my hand met his cock, then to the soft, slick heat of me he was about to fill. His eyes devoured me, and the space between us vibrated with a hunger so visceral I could barely breathe.
I leaned forward, anchoring myself with my palms on his chest, feeling the frantic thrum of his heart beneath my fingers.
I guided him inside me, savoring the stretch and burn until I was fully seated on him, his cock buried so deep I felt it everywhere.
He let out a noise, and his grip on my hips turned painful.
He tried to say something. I saw the words form, then die on his lips, replaced by a gasp as I started to move.
I set the rhythm, rolling my hips in slow circles, grinding down onto him the way I knew would drive him insane.
He met every motion with his own, our bodies syncing up like we’d never forgotten how to fit together.
It was blinding, the way it felt. He filled me so perfectly, every thrust scraping away another layer of fear, another lie, until all that remained was the two of us.
I arched my back, taking him deeper, desperate to burn away the polished veneer my father had demanded and Grant had praised.
With each movement, another piece of Senator Monroe’s perfect daughter crumbled away.
I dug my nails into his chest, and he moved his hands up my ribs, thumbs grazing the curves beneath my breasts.
“Jesus, Blaire,” he groaned as he watched me.
I rode him faster, grinding down until the base of him hit the spot that made me shudder.
Every time I rose up and came back down, he met me with a force that showed his fraying control.
He wanted to crack me open, and I wanted to let him.
I felt it in the way his hands bruised my hips and the way his eyes never left my face, like he was memorizing every flinch, every sound I made.
He was watching for doubt, but he found none.
I leaned back, letting my hands settle on his thighs, hair falling in knots down my back, and he watched the way I moved.
He slipped a thumb between my legs, watching with greedy focus as I shivered and clenched around him, each stroke of his thumb sending me higher until I thought I’d break apart from the inside out.
“Look at me,” he said, soft but stern, and I did.
I let him see me. Stripped and ugly with need, bare of pride or shame.
All I could do was move, chasing the fire he’d set in my blood. I rocked harder, feeling the edge coming up fast, and he felt it too. His hands tightened, his own rhythm faltering and losing control. He was close.
We’d done this before, but it had never felt so real.
“I love you, Colt.” I didn’t try to hide how utterly frantic I was. “I have loved you most of my life, and I will never stop.”
“Fuck,” he hissed as my words hit him.
I pressed my palms into his chest, anchoring myself in the thundering beat beneath my hands. I wanted him to feel it, to feel me. I rode him with a recklessness that bordered on self-destruction, grinding down until I felt him in every part of me.
“Do you hear me, Calloway?” I rasped, nails biting into his skin. “I’ve tried loving others, but it was always you. It will always be you.”
His jaw flexed, and his hand shot up to the back of my neck, palm cradling the base of my skull. He yanked me down hard enough to steal my breath, and our mouths clashed together. I swallowed his growl, his need, and gave him everything in return.
Our bodies moved, fueled by every memory of loss and every second we’d spent pretending we could live without each other.
It was a collision, and there was no space between us for regret.
The headboard banged the wall, the mattress groaned, and the house seemed to shrink around the shape of us. He bucked up into me, his rhythm gone wild, and I clung to him, shaking with the force of my need.
“You undo me,” he muttered against my mouth. “Fuck, I have always loved you.”
I felt myself unraveling, every muscle drawn tight.
“Don’t let go,” he gasped against my mouth. “I’m not ever letting go. Never again.”
The tension built and built, and his hands were nearly crushing my hips, his body shaking beneath me.
We snapped at the same time. His head thrown back, my hands fisting in his hair, both of us breaking open.
A desperate sound escaped my lips, and it was full of everything I’d never been able to say.
He met me, every inch, every thrust, and poured himself into me with a gasp.
For a long while, we held on to each other, slick with sweat, shaking and breathless. There was nothing but the two of us and that gold chain that still hung around my neck.
The gold chain that he’d saved after all this time.