Chapter 24
“Fuck me, Ty. Make me yours.”
Her words slammed into me like a full-speed check into the boards, stealing my breath.
My hands still framed her face, thumbs brushing the heat blooming across her cheeks.
I stared, trying to etch every detail into my memory—Daisy, naked and sprawled across my sheets, blonde hair a wild halo, chest flushed pink with want, lips swollen from my kisses.
Mine.
Not a question. Not a maybe. A demand that lit me up from the inside.
I dropped my weight, letting her feel every inch of how hard she’d made me again. She gasped, hips rolling up, slick heat gliding along my cock. And fuck, I was already teetering on the edge.
“Careful what you ask for, sweetheart,” I growled against her ear, nipping the lobe. “I've been dreaming about this for three damn years. I might not be gentle.”
Her laugh came out shaky, fingers digging into my shoulders. “I don’t need gentle. I just want you.”
That was it—restraint gone. I reached between us, gripped myself, and dragged the head through her wetness just to watch her squirm. She was soaked, thighs trembling, arching like she couldn’t wait another second. I notched at her entrance, but my last thread of sanity stopped me.
I pressed my forehead to her shoulder, breath ragged. “Daisy… condom. We should—”
She shook her head, eyes locked on mine, dark and certain.
“I’m on the pill. And Ty, it’s been years since I’ve been with anyone.
You’ve been right there in my head since the moment I met you, making sure no man ever stood a chance.
” Her fingers curled into my hair, tugging lightly.
“I want to feel you. All of you. Just us.”
My pulse roared in my ears. The thought of nothing between us, of spilling inside her, claiming her in the most primal way—it hit me so hard I had to clench my jaw to keep from losing it right there.
“Are you sure?” I rasped. “I’m clean.”
She nodded, a small, wicked smile curving her lips. “I’m sure. I want you bare, Ty. Want you to ruin me for anyone else.”
A groan tore out of me. The image flashed unbidden—her belly rounded with my kid, Junie’s little sibling kicking under her skin someday. A family. The thought lodged deep in my chest, warm and fierce.
I kissed her hard, pouring every ounce of that want into it. “You’re gonna kill me, woman.”
“La petite mort,” she whispered against my mouth. “Die happy, Ty.”
I pushed in inch by torturous inch, watching her eyes flutter, her mouth fall open on a silent gasp.
Tight.
So fucking tight, hot and wet and perfect.
She clenched around me, and I had to stop halfway just to breathe, forehead pressed to hers, sweat beading on my back.
“Ty—” she whimpered, nails raking down my spine.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” I slid the rest of the way home, buried to the hilt, and we both groaned.
The fit was unreal—nothing between us, just skin on skin, her heat gripping me like a promise.
I pulled back, then thrust in again, deeper, harder, setting a rhythm that had the headboard tapping the wall in a steady beat.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me faster.
I gave it to her, the room filling with the sounds of us: skin slapping, breath hitching, the wet slide of her taking me.
Her tits bounced with every thrust, and I couldn’t resist dropping my mouth to one nipple, sucking hard until she cried out.
“Quiet,” I warned, grinning against her skin. “Junie’s down the hall.”
She bit her lip, nodding, but when I angled my hips and hit that spot inside her, her head fell back, a muffled moan slipping free. I swallowed it with a kiss, tongue stroking hers in time with my cock. She was close—I could feel it in the way she fluttered around me, the way her thighs shook.
I slid a hand between us, thumb finding her clit, circling fast. “Come on, Daisy. Let me feel it. Fall apart for me.”
That did it.
She shattered—back bowing off the bed, pussy clamping down so hard I saw stars.
I fucked her through it, drawing it out until she gasped my name, her body trembling beneath me.
Only then did I let go, burying my face in her neck, thrusting deep as I came with a guttural groan, spilling inside her in hot, endless pulses.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other. I didn’t want to move—didn’t want to lose the feel of her around me, under me, mine.
Eventually, I rolled to the side, pulling her with me so she draped across my chest. Her hair tickled my jaw, and I smoothed it back, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Are you okay?” I murmured, voice rough.
She laughed, soft and sleepy. “I’m… wow. Yeah. More than okay. Might have some beard burn in awkward places later, but that’s what you get from a mustache ride, I guess.”
I grinned into the dark, tracing lazy circles on her back. “You only have yourself to blame for this facial hair, sweetheart.”
Her head lifted, eyes wide and playful. “No regrets.”
“Whipped from day one,” I confessed, running a hand through the thick mustache.
She buried her face in my neck, body shaking with a soft chuckle, melting into me as if she’d always belonged there.
“Hearing you say you want me bare…” I groaned, replaying her voice in my head. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
Her eyes opened, looking up at me as that smile turned wicked. “Oh, yeah?”
I rolled us until she was partially under me again, staring right now into those pretty blue eyes. “It makes me think about someday.”
Her eyes softened, glassy with emotion. “Ty…”
“I know,” I said, resting my forehead against hers and hoping I wasn’t blowing this, but desperate for her to know how serious I was. “It’s too soon.”
She pulled me down, kissing me as if she was sealing the promise. “I get it,” she whispered. “I like the idea of someday.”
I held her close, the weight of it settling in my chest.
Someday.
I could wait for someday if every night ended like this—with her in my arms, bare and mine, dreaming of the life we’d build together.
The room went quiet, just the hum of the night outside and the steady beat of her heart against mine. I traced lazy patterns on her back, feeling her tense beneath my touch.
“Talk to me,” I murmured into her hair. “Did I make you nervous?”
She was quiet for a long second. “I’m scared.”
My arms tightened. “Of what?”
“This. How much I want it all. Junie called you Dad today. That child does nothing without thinking about it first, so I know she meant it. I can see you both mean it. So now I keep thinking, what if I mess this up? What if I let myself need you, and then—”
“Stop.” I pulled back enough to make her look at me. “You’re not going to mess this up. We’re not. This isn’t some fling, Daisy. Not for me.”
Her eyes searched mine, a little glassy. “It isn’t for me either. But I come with big, heavy baggage. A niece I’m raising. Grief. A whole life I didn’t plan—”
“I want the baggage,” I said, voice rough.
“I want the kid. I want the mornings when Junie demands pancakes on her purple plate and critiques them like she’s Gordon Ramsay.
I want the nights when you fall asleep on my chest, naked and spent.
An obnoxious little pig running around, a rooster that bullies everyone, and a weird llama you can’t make eye contact with. I want all of it.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I wiped it away with my thumb.
“I’ve been alone a long time,” I said. “Not lonely, just waiting. But you, Daisy… you were plucked straight from my dreams and brought to life. You’re bright, and fun, and loving, and so fucking gorgeous it’s hard for me to look away.
And have you seen these tits?” I grabbed a handful, then dropped my mouth to kiss along them, dragging it out until she let out a small laugh, her hips already moving again. “Delicious.”
She pushed my shoulder until I lay back down beside her, but her face tipped my way. The smile melted off her face in slow motion, turning emotional once more, and I let it.
“She never told me,” Daisy whispered, ducking her chin to stare at the sheet twisted between us. “I didn’t even know she was sick.”
I went still, the lazy circles I’d been tracing on her skin freezing mid-stroke. Sure, I’d known Daisy wasn’t here those last months before Violet passed, but this—this was a gut punch.
“Jesus, Daisy.” I cupped her jaw, tilting her face up. “Before I realized it was you, I thought the worst. That you knew and stayed away anyway.”
Her eyes flashed, hurt and understanding all at once.
“You know I would’ve been here. If I’d known, I would’ve dropped everything.
I would’ve held her hand through the headaches, learned how to make those stupid green smoothies she loved that tasted like grass, hugged Junie when she asked why Mommy wouldn’t wake up. ”
“I know that,” I said, voice rough. “I know you. And Daisy, you got here as soon as you could. That you’ve been dealing with this on your own and still showing up for Junie every day… I’m in awe.”
She shook her head. “Violet’s first letter said she didn’t want me to watch her die. Called it her ‘last selfish act’—protecting me from the countdown.”
I got that reflex. I was an older sibling too, and I fought like hell my whole life to protect Emmy from the same emotional neglect I felt at the hands of our parents. But this was different. This hurt her.
“She was wrong.” Tears slid down Daisy’s face, and I wiped them away with my thumb. “But I get why. And that makes me furious. I’m grateful for the months I didn’t lie awake picturing her last breath… and I hate her for stealing the choice. I missed everything.”
“Grief’s not a straight line,” I said, echoing the counselor I’d sat with every Thursday for weeks before Violet died. “It’s a damn scribble. You can love her, miss her, and want to scream at her all at once.”
She hiccuped. “Well, that was wise. You’re not just a dumb jock, huh?”
“I hope not after those grief counseling classes I took, so I’d know what to say when Junie asked why her mom’s in the ground but the sun still rises.
” I kissed her again, hoping she felt that I understood.
“Anger’s part of it. The situation sucks.
Violet took something huge from you, even if she wrapped it in love.
But that doesn’t make missing her any easier. ”
Daisy’s fingers curled into my chest. “I keep thinking—if I’d known, maybe I could’ve done something. Or, at least, helped Junie more.”
“You’re helping her now,” I said. “You dance, and smile, and cry, and tell stories, and keep on living even when it feels impossible, showing Junie she can too. That’s what matters.”
She looked up, eyes softer. “Grief counseling, huh? Is that like sitting in a circle with strangers for eight weeks?”
“Every Thursday. We learned about grief bursts and memory boxes. Junie’s got hers under the bed. We pressed some wildflowers last week and added them.”
Daisy’s smile wobbled. “You’re a good man, Ty Hudson.”
“I’m a man stupid in love with that kid,” I said. I almost slipped and you in there, but was terrified that would scare Daisy off even more than implying I wanted her to have my kids someday.
So instead, I said, “I’m not going anywhere. Not when the nights are good, and not when the grief rips you open all at once. We’ll scribble through it together.”
She pressed her face into my neck, arms tight. “Okay.”
I held her until her breathing evened, until the moon slid lower and the room went dark. Then I whispered, “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”