Chapter 25
Gregory
Tell me it’s not too late.
Her words hit me hard.
I spent half the night running calculations. Building strategies. Drafting a proposal in my head that could bridge the impossible gulf between us. Something that would prove I’m serious about changing. About being worthy of her.
I was going to pitch it to her. Lay out the whole plan. Show her I’ve been thinking about this. About us. That I have a way to make this work.
But she beat me to it.
She’s the one fighting.
For me.
For us.
I pull her into my lap. Can’t help myself. My walls are crumbling like weakened ore under pressure and I don’t even give a fuck anymore.
“You don’t know how to have this? How to deserve this?” I shake my head. “You already deserve this. A thousand times over. You just have to want this. Want us. Even when it’s complicated and imperfect and we have to figure it out as we go. Even if it seems scary.”
She’s crying against my chest now. Full body shaking. “I want it. I’m scared but I want it.”
I hold her tighter. Like she’s the only fucking thing keeping me tethered to reality. Which she probably is. “Good.”
She swallows. “But what about... the impossible logistics?”
“Forget the logistics. We’ll figure out the logistics.” I tip her chin up so she has to look at me. Those warm brown eyes are swimming with tears and doubt and hope. “As I told you before, we’ll make it work.”
“How?” She presses.
“Forget the how,” I reply. Right now she doesn’t need a business proposal. She just needs to know I’m committed. “Just know... I’m all in if you are.”
She kisses me then. Desperate and hungry and fuck, I’ve missed this. Missed her. It’s only been a day of awful silence but it felt like years.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“I’m in,” she whispers. “I’m all in.”
I feel such overwhelming relief that I have to close my eyes a moment just to collect myself.
When I open them again, I cup her face with both hands.
The words are right there.
I love you.
Three words.
They’ve been sitting in my chest like unrefined ore for days now. Waiting to be extracted and examined and processed into something I can actually voice.
But they still feel like too much. And way too vulnerable.
Especially after the fight that nearly destroyed us.
So instead I kiss her forehead. Her nose. Her mouth.
Then we stay like that. Just holding each other. My hands in her hair. Her face pressed against my neck. The fire crackling beside us.
The rest of the world can wait.
Right now there’s just us.
I can feel every curve of her body pressed against mine. The soft weight of her in my lap. Her breath warm on my throat.
Part of me wants to fuck her so bad. To strip her down and pin her beneath me and claim her again.
But I force myself to just hold her.
To give her this moment of quiet safety.
There will be ample time for the rest.
Besides, Mountain Rescue will be here soon.
She pulls back after a while. Frames my face with those small capable hands that fixed the generator and held the ladder and refused to let me face danger alone.
“Make love to me,” she pleads.
My breath catches. “Sorrel. The helicopter will be here soon.”
“I know. We don’t have much time.” Her voice is low and determined. “But I need this. I need to know this is real. That you’re real.”
I search her eyes. Looking for doubt. For second thoughts. “Are you sure?”
She nods. “I feel like we wasted last night. Let’s not waste any more time. I choose this. I choose you.”
Fuck.
I stand in one motion and she wraps her legs around my waist. She’s so damn light. So breakable. Yet somehow the strongest person I’ve ever met.
I fucking carry her to our spot in front of the fucking fireplace and lay her down on the fucking blankets.
“Gregory.” She’s looking up at me with those fucking eyes that see everything. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry about last night.”
“Stop apologizing.” I settle over her. Brace myself on my fucking forearms so I don’t crush her. “We both fucked up. We both let fear win for a minute. But we’re here now.”
“We’re here now,” she echoes.
I kiss her fucking slowly. Thoroughly. Mapping her fucking mouth like I’m committing it to memory. Which I am.
Her lips.
Her tongue.
The little fucking sound she makes when I bite her bottom lip gently.
My hand slides under her fucking thermal shirt. Under my fucking hoodie that she’s been wearing like a second skin. Her skin is warm and soft and I want to touch every fucking inch of her.
“Tell me what you need,” I murmur against her throat.
“You.” Her fingers tangle in my hair. “Just you.”