20. Lily
LILY
T he mountain is quiet when I wake.
Sunlight filters through the curtains, pale and gold, warming the cabin’s wooden bones. I’m curled in his arms, his chest a wall of heat against my back, his breath steady against my hair.
For the first time in forever, I don’t wake with panic biting at me.
Just… peace.
I lie still and soak it in with deep gratitude.
My Bear, sprawled behind me, heavy and solid, one arm slung over my waist like a chain he’ll never let go. My bruises ache faintly, but I smile at them. They’re proof of something real, something fierce, something that makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.
I think about last night. The wildness in him, in me, the promises whispered against rumpled sheets, the way his forehead dropped to mine like I was his whole world. And I realize—I’m home. Truly.
“Petal,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. His arm tightens. “Stop thinking so loud.”
I laugh softly and twist in his grip until I’m facing him.
His eyes crack open, dark and stormy and beautiful like summer thunderstorms, but softer now than they’ve ever been.
“What if I told you I was thinking about how much I love you?” I whisper, testing the words on my tongue.
His breath hitches. For one terrifying second, silence stretches. Then his lips curl, and his hand cups the back of my head, dragging me close.
“Then I’d tell you I love you more,” he growls against my mouth.
“Always have. From the second you looked up at me, so fucking pretty and fierce.”
Tears sting, but I kiss him before they can fall. Hard. Hungry. I climb over him, straddling his waist, his cock already hard and heavy against me.
“Say it again,” I beg, rocking over him, heat flooding between my thighs.
His hands clamp on my hips to guide me down, fierce and steady, onto him. The stretch makes me gasp, makes my vision blur.
“I love you, petal,” he groans, burying his face in my neck as I sink onto him. “I love you so fucking much it’s tearing me apart. And it feels so fucking good.”
I ride him slow, savoring every inch, every scrape of him inside me. His eyes are locked on mine now, fever-bright, as if he’s memorizing me, branding me into his soul.
“I love you too, Bear,” I whisper, my body trembling as pleasure coils tight. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”
He roars my name when we fall together, clutching me so close it’s almost pain.
After, we lie tangled, sweat-slick and laughing quietly. I trace circles on his chest, my heart still pounding.
“So,” I murmur, teasing, “how do you feel about a road trip?”
His brows rise. “Road trip?”
“Mhm. A sexy road trip. Just you, me, your truck… maybe a motel or two. To reclaim a few things from my old life while I show you a few places?”
He smirks, feral and tender all at once. “Fuck motels. Only five stars for you, baby. And as long as every mile ends with you on top of me, petal, I’m in.”
And just like that, the world feels wide open. Ours for the taking.