Chapter 11 #2
"What day is it?" he asks.
The question catches me off guard. "Thursday. Why?"
"No, I mean the date."
I have to think about it. Days have been blurring together lately. "October... fifteenth?"
"October sixteenth."
"Okay. October sixteenth. What's significant about—" I stop. Something tugging at the edge of my memory. October sixteenth. October sixteenth.
Oh.
"It's my birthday," I say slowly.
Levi nods.
"I forgot." The realization hits me like a wave. "I completely forgot my own birthday."
"Cain didn't celebrate them, did he?"
"No. He said they were stupid. Childish." I shake my head, marveling at how thoroughly he erased even the simplest joys from my life. "I can't believe I forgot."
"Good thing I didn't." Levi sits up, reaching for something on the nightstand. "Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Just do it."
I close my eyes, curiosity and something like excitement bubbling in my chest.
I hear him moving around, hear the click of a lighter, smell the faint sulfur of a match.
"Okay. Open them."
I open my eyes.
He's holding a cupcake.
A single chocolate cupcake with white frosting and a candle stuck in the top, the tiny flame casting dancing shadows across his face.
"Happy birthday," he says.
The tears come before I can stop them.
Not sad tears—I'm so tired of sad tears—but something else.
Something bright and overwhelming and almost painful in its sweetness.
"You got me a cupcake," I manage.
"The bakery was out of cakes. Figured this was better than nothing."
"It's perfect." I wipe my eyes, laughing at myself. "I'm crying over a cupcake. God, I'm a mess."
"You're not a mess." He holds the cupcake closer, the candlelight reflected in his eyes. "Make a wish."
I look at the flame. Such a small thing. Such a simple tradition. But three years with Cain stripped away all the simple things, all the small joys, all the tiny moments that make life worth living.
This is the first birthday wish I've made since I was nineteen.
I close my eyes, think about everything I want—safety, peace, healing, love—and blow out the candle.
When I open my eyes, Levi is watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"What did you wish for?" he asks.
"I can't tell you. It won't come true."
"Fair enough." He sets the cupcake aside, pulling me closer. "I have something else for you."
"You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a small box. "It's not much. But I saw it and thought of you."
I take the box with trembling hands.
Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton, is a necklace—a delicate silver chain with a small pendant shaped like an open book.
"For the teacher," he says quietly. "The one you're going to become."
The tears come again, harder this time.
I can't speak.
Can't do anything but stare at this small, perfect gift from this hard, complicated man who somehow sees all the pieces of me—even the ones I'd forgotten existed.
"I love it," I whisper. "Will you put it on me?"
He takes the necklace from the box, and I turn so he can fasten the clasp at the back of my neck.
His fingers brush my skin, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.
When I turn back around, he's looking at me like I'm something precious.
Something worth protecting.
"Thank you," I say. "For the cupcake. For the necklace. For..." I gesture vaguely, trying to encompass everything. "For giving me a reason to celebrate again."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I want to." I move closer, pressing my body against his. "I want to show you how grateful I am."
Something shifts in his eyes. Darkens. "Ripley—"
"Let me." I push gently on his chest, and he lets me guide him back against the pillows. "Let me take care of you for once."
He watches me, motionless, as I straddle his hips.
I can feel him hardening beneath me, but he doesn't move.
Doesn't try to take control. Just waits, letting me set the pace.
This is new.
Different. Every other time we've been together, he's been the one in charge—gentle but commanding, leading me where he wanted me to go.
And I needed that.
Needed someone else to make the decisions, to take the pressure off my shattered psyche.
But tonight, I want something different.
Tonight, I want to reclaim something Cain took from me.
My body. My agency. My right to take pleasure instead of just receiving it.
I lean down, kissing Levi slowly, thoroughly, taking my time.
My hands explore his chest, his shoulders, the hard planes of muscle beneath his skin.
He groans against my mouth, his hips flexing involuntarily beneath me.
"Ripley—"
"Shh." I nip at his lower lip. "Let me."
I take my time undressing him.
Then myself.
I watch his eyes roam over my body, and for the first time, I don't feel the urge to cover up.
Don't hear Cain's voice sneering about my curves, my softness, my imperfections.
I feel beautiful.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Levi breathes, like he's reading my mind. "Every inch of you."
"Tell me again."
"Gorgeous." His hands come up to grip my hips, but gently. Letting me stay in control. "Beautiful. Perfect."
I sink down onto him slowly, savoring the stretch, the fullness, the connection.
His breath catches.
His fingers dig into my hips, but he doesn't move.
Doesn't try to set the rhythm.
Just watches me with those dark, hungry eyes.
"Feel good?" I whisper.
"Christ, Ripley. You have no idea."
"Show me."
I start to move, finding my rhythm, chasing my pleasure.
It's different from this angle—deeper, more intense—and I can feel every inch of him inside me.
His hands slide up my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Take what you need. I'm yours."
I'm yours.
The words hit me somewhere deep.
Not possessive, not demanding. An offering. A surrender.
This man—this hard, dangerous, powerful man—is giving himself to me.
Letting me take control.
Trusting me with his vulnerability the same way I've trusted him with mine.
I move faster, chasing the building pressure, the coiling tension.
His hands grip my hips, helping me now, matching my rhythm.
Our breathing fills the room—harsh, ragged, desperate.
"I'm close," I gasp. "Levi—"
"I know. I've got you." One hand slides between us, finding the spot that makes me see stars. "Let go. I want to feel you."
I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me, wave after wave of pleasure that seems to go on forever.
I cry out his name, my nails digging into his chest, my whole body trembling with the force of it.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I feel him follow—his groan vibrating through me, his body arching up into mine.
We collapse together, tangled and sweaty and utterly spent.
"Happy birthday," he murmurs against my hair.
I laugh—a breathless, giddy sound. "Best birthday ever."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I didn't even need the cupcake."
His arms tighten around me. "There's always next year."
Next year. The words settle into me like a promise.
A future. Something to look forward to.
For so long, I couldn't imagine a future.
Couldn't see past the next day, the next hour, the next moment.
But lying here in Levi's arms, wearing the necklace he gave me, still trembling from the pleasure we shared—I can finally see it.
A life. A real life. Not just surviving, but living.
"I made a wish," I say softly. "When I blew out the candle."
"I thought you couldn't tell me."
"I changed my mind." I lift my head, meeting his eyes. "I wished for this. For more nights like this. More birthdays. More chances to be happy."
His hand comes up, cupping my face. "You'll have them. I promise."
"You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
He kisses me then—soft and sweet and full of all the things we don't know how to say. And I let myself believe him.
Maybe it's foolish.
Maybe the world will crash down around us tomorrow.
But tonight, in this moment, I choose to hope.
I choose to believe that the future is worth fighting for.
I choose to live.