Chapter 33 Love, Made Divine
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(Ryder)
That night, December came home later than usual. I heard the truck before I saw her—its familiar rumble cutting through the evening stillness. She came in quietly, the door closing with a soft click, and when she saw me standing there in the living room, she froze.
“You should be resting,” she said at once, setting her bag down. Her eyes roamed over me, searching for any sign of pain. “Have you eaten? Taken your meds? I’m sorry… I was swamped today. Did you manage dinner? I couldn’t come earlier—I asked Margot and Billy to cook. I’m so sorry, I—”
"Dec," I interrupted gently, stepping closer. "I'm fine."
Her hands were trembling. I took them before she could pull away. "Hey," I said softly, tilting my head until she met my gaze. "Look at me. I'm right here."
Her lip quivered. "I am sorry, I know I am a bit too much," she whispered.
I didn't let her finish. I just pulled her into my arms and held her there.
For a moment, she resisted, like she was afraid I might vanish, but then she melted against me, arms sliding around my waist, face buried in my chest.
"I'm here," I murmured. "You can stop worrying now, love."
"Never," she whispered back, voice muffled. "You don't get to almost die and then tell me to stop worrying."
I smiled faintly and kissed the top of her head. "Then worry with me in your arms."
When she finally looked up, her eyes were wet but fierce. "You shouldn't have done that for me."
"I'd do it again," I said without hesitation. "A thousand times."
Her fingers brushed my jaw, tentative, reverent. And then, finally, she kissed me. Soft. Careful. Like I might break. But I didn't. I kissed her back, slow and sure, every second of fear between us dissolving into something fragile and whole.
Afterward, she leaned her forehead against mine and whispered, "I don't want to be scared anymore."
"Then let's stop being scared together," I said. "Starting tomorrow."
She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I'm declaring two weeks of dates," I told her. "One every night.."
Her brows lifted. "You're supposed to be taking it easy."
"I will. You'll see. They'll all be small surprises."
I meant it. The next night, I started simple.
I strung up a few old fairy lights in the backyard, set two mismatched chairs under the oak tree, and lit every candle I could find.
December came out barefoot, wearing one of my old shirts that hung off her shoulder, and just stopped in the doorway.
The candles flickered across her face, catching the shine in her hair.
"You did this?" she whispered.
"Yeah," I said. "Wanted to have dinner under the stars."
She laughed softly, that low, musical sound I'd missed more than sleep. "This is not simple."
"I had help," I said.
We ate pizza off paper plates, our knees touching beneath the table.
We talked about nothing and everything — the past, the weather, the ridiculousness of fate.
At one point, she leaned forward, laughing, and brushed a crumb from my lip.
Her fingers lingered there, just long enough for my pulse to trip over itself.
The touch was featherlight, but it anchored me.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between us.
The next evening, I packed a blanket, and she drove us to the little park outside town. The night was soft, navy and gold, the sky slowly blooming with stars.
We lay side by side, close enough to share breath. The constellations shimmered above us, patient and infinite.
"Remember when you told me stars were just the universe showing off?" she murmured, eyes still on the sky.
"Still true," I said, turning toward her. "But tonight, it's got competition."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "You're laying it on thick, Ry."
"Not thick enough," I said quietly. "You don't get it, Dec. You walk into a room and everything in me settles. You laugh, and it's like the rest of the world falls away. I don't care about anything except making you feel safe, and seen, and so loved you never have to question it again."
Her eyes shimmered, catching the starlight. "You already do," she whispered.
We kissed beneath that endless sky and it felt like a vow spoken in the language of breath and heartbeat.
Another evening, sprawled on the living room floor with a messy deck of cards, the game quickly dissolved into playful chaos.
She cheated with a cheeky grin, eyes filled with mischief, and I called her out with mock indignation.
Without warning, she lunged at me, the weight of her body pressing me down as she pinned me beneath her.
Our laughter caught in our throats as realization dawned—she was lying on top of me, breath warm against my skin.
Her lips found mine then, slow and deliberate, igniting a fire that made the world around us blur and dissolve.
That kiss reached deep, reverberating through every fiber of my being with a raw, electrifying hunger that tasted of promises yet to be spoken.
I turned her around and I was on the top of her, and for a long moment, we simply looked at each other, two hearts that had been through fire, finally finding rest.
I reached out and framed her face in my hands. Her skin was warm beneath my palms, familiar, alive. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as I whispered, "You are my peace, Dec."
Then I kissed the bridge of her nose, soft and slow. "My light."
A breath later, my lips brushed the corner of her mouth, then the other. "Your smile keeps me breathing," I said, my voice catching.
She closed her eyes, and I kissed her eyelids, one after the other, reverent as a prayer. "Your eyes see the best in me, even when I can't."
My mouth traced along her cheeks, down the curve of her jaw. Between each kiss, words slipped out unplanned, like confessions. "You're my reason. My miracle. My home."
Her hands came up to rest over mine, trembling slightly. I could feel her heartbeat against my fingers.
I kissed her again — this time on the lips, slow and steady.
Her breath hitched softly against mine, and I could taste the salt of tears she hadn't realized she was crying.
She breathed my name like a prayer. "Ryder," she whispered, so soft it almost disappeared into the night.
Then her eyes flickered down to my side. "Your wound..."
"The doctor said it's fine," I murmured, brushing my thumb along her jaw. "Now it's up to you."
Her lips parted, trembling just slightly, and she nodded.
I kissed her again. Her hands came up to my chest, hesitant at first, then certain, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
Every touch felt like rediscovery, as though I'd known her in a hundred lives and had been waiting to find her again in this one.
When I finally pulled back, we stood up and I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in. My voice dropped to a whisper, the words fragile and shaking, "I don't think you understand what you are to me."
Her eyes softened, and she looked at me like she wanted to answer but I shook my head gently. "No," I said, my voice breaking. "Let me show you."
I sank slowly to my knees before her, my hands resting lightly but reverently on her hips. I looked up at her—not like a man looking at a woman, but like someone staring at something divine. I began to taste her, and it felt like I was in heaven.
Her hands trembled as they reached down and threaded through my hair, grounding me.
Her eyes shone with the reflection of starlight and something far deeper, raw and intense.
I felt every shiver that ran through her body as I moved with worshipful intent, my lips and tongue exploring every inch, claiming her in the sweetest torment.