Chapter 20 #2
I press in slowly, inch by inch. Her eyes squeeze shut, her lips parting in a soft cry. My gut twists with the effort of holding back. She’s so tight around me, my whole body trembles.
“Breathe, baby,” I whisper against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
When I’m finally buried inside her, I have to stop, forehead pressed to her shoulder, lungs burning. She shifts under me, gasping.
“You feel… so fucking big,” she whispers, wonder threading through her voice.
I kiss her neck, moving gently, shallow strokes at first. Her hands cling to me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat.
Her body adjusts, loosens, begins to meet me. I suck one nipple into my mouth, flicking my tongue until she moans and arches, pushing harder against me.
The pace builds slowly, then steadier, her hips rolling, her voice rising. I grit my teeth, fighting not to lose it, not yet.
Then she shocks me. She licks my jaw, tugging at me with a hunger I’ve never seen in her. “More,” she begs. “Please, Boone—don’t hold back.”
It’s like watching her transform before my eyes, a little feral, a little wild, and god, it makes me want to give her everything.
“Sadie…” I choke out. “I can pull out before I knot, if you want.”
Her eyes flash open, locking on mine, defiant. She shakes her head hard. “No. I want all of you.”
The words nearly break me. I thrust harder, deeper, kissing her like I’ll never stop, letting myself go where she pulls me.
Her cries rise with mine, and when release rips through me, it’s with a raw, shaking groan. My body locked inside hers, my knot catching and binding us together.
She clings to me, panting, her lips brushing my ear. “All of you,” she whispers again, and this time it doesn’t sound like fear. It sounds like a promise.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, locked together, my body still trembling from the force of what just happened. My arms are wrapped around her, my face buried in the curve of her neck.
I feel her heartbeat thundering against my chest. My knot pulses inside her, swollen and tight, holding me in a way I’ve never experienced before.
But it’s not the physical part that undoes me—it’s the way she clings. Her fingers are digging into my back like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
And then I feel it.
Her tears. Hot, quiet, slipping against my skin where her face is pressed to me.
“Sadie,” I whisper, lifting my head just enough to see her.
Her lashes are wet, her mouth trembling, her face turned away as if she doesn’t want me to notice.
I cup her cheek gently, tilting her toward me. “Hey. Look at me.”
She shakes her head, the tiniest movement. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I don’t… I don’t know why I’m crying.”
God, my chest hurts. I press my lips to her damp cheek, her temple. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for this. Not ever.”
Her tears slip faster, spilling down. “It just—it feels different. And I don’t know how to hold that. I’m not used to…” She trails off, swallowing hard. “Not used to being wanted like this. Not used to someone staying.”
The words stab into me. I feel my jaw lock, my arms tightening around her instinctively. She’s not just talking about sex—I know that. She’s talking about everything before this. About all the ways people failed her, left her, hurt her.
“Sadie,” I whisper again, my voice raw. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She closes her eyes, fresh tears sliding free. “You say that now, but—”
“No,” I cut in, sharper than I mean to, but I need her to hear it. “Not just now. Not just for tonight. I don’t care how long it takes, or how messy it gets—you’re not someone I could ever walk away from. You got that?”
Her breath hitches, and she finally opens her eyes, staring up at me. Something fragile flickers there, like hope she doesn’t trust yet.
I kiss her, soft and steady, even as my knot throbs inside her, keeping us fused. She trembles beneath me, but she kisses me back, and I swear it feels like more than just lips meeting—it feels like something rebuilding inside her.
We stay like that, mouths brushing, hands tangled, while her tears slowly subside. My palm strokes down her back, slow circles meant to soothe. Her breathing evens out, though every now and then it still hitches, betraying the storm inside her.
And me? I’m trying to keep my own emotions contained, but I’m not doing a very good job. I’ve been with women before, casual things, one-night stands.
Nothing like this. Nothing that made me feel like if I broke my promise, I’d be destroying something sacred.
When her tears finally stop, she sighs against my shoulder, her body softening into mine. “I hate crying,” she murmurs, voice muffled.
I smile faintly, brushing her hair back. “You can cry on me anytime.”
She groans softly. “That’s not very sexy.”
“Trust me,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Right now, with you wrapped around me, there isn’t a damn thing that could make you less sexy.”
Her cheeks flush pink, even with her eyes still puffy. She buries her face in my chest again, and I just hold her tighter.
The minutes drag, my knot still firm, binding us. She shifts slightly, wincing, and I freeze.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask quickly, searching her face.
She shakes her head. “No. Just… it’s a lot. But it’s okay.”
I stroke her cheek again, needing her to know I mean it. “If it ever isn’t okay, you tell me. We stop. We always stop. Deal?”
Her eyes shine with something that makes my throat burn. She nods slowly.
We fall into silence again, the quiet kind that feels almost holy. I listen to her breathing, the faint sounds of the night drifting through the open window. My body is exhausted, but my mind won’t settle.
Because now that I’ve had her like this—soft, open, trusting—I realize just how deep I’m in.
This isn’t just a crush. It isn’t just attraction. I’m hooked, bound in a way that feels every bit as permanent as the knot still anchoring us.
And I don’t want out.
When I finally start to soften, when the swell eases and I can move again, I’m careful as I pull free. She winces a little, but I kiss her lips quickly, whispering, “Almost done, baby.”
She nods, eyes fluttering closed.
I grab a cloth from the nightstand drawer—habit of being a medic, always keeping things handy—and clean us up gently.
She blushes the whole time, turning her face away, but she doesn’t stop me. If anything, I think the careful way I handle her is part of what makes more tears gather in her eyes.
When I’m done, I pull the blanket over us and tuck her into my side. She curls into me immediately, like she was made to fit there.
I rest my chin on her hair. “You okay?”
She nods against my chest. “Yeah. Just… it’s a lot.”
“I know,” I murmur. “We’ll go slow. Always.”
Her hand finds mine under the blanket, her fingers lacing with mine. She squeezes once, like she’s testing me, and I squeeze back without hesitation.
Her breathing slows gradually, evening into the rhythm of sleep. But I stay awake long after, staring at the ceiling, my thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.
I think about all the shit she’s been through. About how many times she’s probably been made to feel like she was nothing more than a body to use. And then I think about tonight—the way she cried, the way she let me stay, the way she asked for my knot like she wanted every part of me.
It feels like a gift I don’t deserve.
And I swear to myself, right here in this bed with her tangled against me, that I’ll never be the reason she feels unwanted again.
Never.
I close my eyes finally, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep, Sadie,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
She sighs softly in her sleep, and I let myself drift with her, holding her as tight as I dare.
Imust’ve drifted off deeper than I realized because when I stir, it’s not from the usual creak of the house or Gus barking down the road—it’s from the lightest touch.
Her hand.
Sadie’s palm is pressed to my chest, right over my heart. I crack my eyes open, groggy, and the dim light spilling in from the window paints her silhouette against the darkness.
She’s awake. Her eyes are open, studying me like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to be here, to be touching me like this.
“Sadie?” My voice is rough, sleep-thick.
She hesitates for half a beat before whispering, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I murmur, catching her wrist and kissing the inside of it. Her skin is warm, trembling under my lips. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Her throat works as she swallows. Then, in a voice so soft I almost think I imagined it, she asks, “Can we… go again?”
The words jolt me awake faster than a cold bucket of water. My eyes snap open fully, and I study her in the dim light.
She’s nervous, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, but her pupils are wide, her scent shifting with unmistakable need.
I should say no. She needs rest, recovery. She needs space. But the way she’s looking at me—it’s not just about sex.
It’s about trust. About wanting to feel alive.
“Yes,” I say, my voice low and certain. I cup her cheek, stroking my thumb along her skin. “We can. However you want.”
Her lips curve into the faintest smile before she leans down to kiss me. This kiss is different from before—not tentative, not careful. It’s hungrier, bolder, like she’s chasing something she’s finally brave enough to claim.
I roll onto my back, letting her straddle me. She shifts nervously, fingers fumbling with the hem of her camisole, and I help her ease it over her head.
My hands roam her sides, pausing to cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples until they harden under my touch. She gasps, grinding down against me, and fuck—I nearly lose it then and there.
“Take what you need, baby,” I whisper, voice strained. “I’m yours.”
Her cheeks flush, but she lifts herself enough to guide me to her entrance. She’s wet already, slick with arousal, and when she sinks down on me, her head falls back with a moan so sweet it makes my gut clench.