Chapter 12 #2
When we finally still, both of us boneless and shaking, he doesn’t move away. He keeps holding me like I’m something precious. And in this moment I don’t even want to fight that.
We re-dress again and he helps me into the truck before rounding to his side. The cabin smells like heat and pine and sex. My back sticks faintly to the seat, shorts half-buttoned, hair a mess. Rhett starts the engine, but neither of us says anything at first.
Outside, the trees blur past in a dark ribbon, moonlight threading through the windshield.
Inside, the silence isn’t awkward. It’s thick with something softer.
Rhett’s hand finds mine, fingers lacing gently like it’s second nature.
I glance at him, and for once, he isn’t wearing that cocky half-smile.
His profile is all shadows and quiet focus, jaw ticing as he watches the road.
But his thumb rubs slow circles against the back of my hand, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
Like he doesn’t want to let go.
My heart flips.
“Hey,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
He glances over, eyes catching mine in the low glow of the dash lights. “You good?”
I nod. “More than.”
He squeezes my hand once, then lifts it, presses his lips to my knuckles like we’re in some old western movie and I’m the girl he just won in a bar fight.
“You’re quiet,” I say.
“So are you.”
“I’m not used to this,” I admit.
He doesn’t ask what. He just nods, like he understands exactly what I mean. I lean my head against the window, but I don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t let go either.
The drive feels longer than it is, maybe because neither of us is in a hurry to break the spell.
When he pulls into the gravel drive and cuts the engine, we just sit there.
The porch light is on, casting gold over the steps.
We walk through the door and into the dark, and for a moment neither of us moves.
The house is still but I don’t notice. I only have eyes for Rhett. His hand stays in mine as we move up the stairs and down the hall to his room. We come to a stop in front of his bed, shadows slanting across the sheets like they’re waiting for us.
I turn to him, breath still unsteady. “You asked earlier if you were too rough.”
He nods slowly, watching me.
“I’m not fragile, Rhett. And I want this.” I step into his space, voice lower now. “So don’t hold back this time.”
His jaw tenses, just slightly. That look in his eyes goes darker.
“This time?” he echoes. His lips twitch into something between a smirk and a warning. “I like the sound of that.”
He grabs the hem of my shirt and peels it off in one clean motion, eyes dragging over every inch of newly exposed skin like it’s a reward. Like it’s his. My shorts are next. Then my bra and panties.
Then his hands are on my hips, spinning me, guiding me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed.
“Lie down, sweetheart.”
I do. Not because he told me to. Because I want to. Because that voice, low and commanding, hits every nerve I didn’t know I had.
I swallow when he peels his jeans and boxers off, leaving him as nude as me.
“You really want it rough?” he murmurs, crawling over me.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His mouth crashes into mine, and it’s all heat from there.
He kisses like a man with something to prove like he wants to make damn sure I’ll never forget the way he touches me.
His hands drag down my ribs, over my thighs, and I feel branded everywhere he touches.
There’s nothing between us but heat and want and a storm we can’t take back.
“You want me to ruin you for anyone else?” he rasps against my breast.
I nod, trembling. “Yes.”
I’m rewarded when he takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking until heat sparks through my body.
“You want to feel me for days?”
“Yes.”
His hand slides down between my thighs. He groans when he finds how ready I am.
“You’re already soaked,” he mutters. “You’re killing me.”
I reach for him, pulling him back down. “Then don’t make me wait.”
His eyes flash. “Say it.”
“I want you.”
“You want me to fill you up,” he breathes. “To put something real inside you.”
My breath catches.
His hand moves lower again, coaxing until I’m rocking against his palm.
“Wouldn’t even mind if I knocked you up, would you? Put a baby in you so no one ever questions who you belong to.”
I whimper, arching into his touch like my body already knows it’s his to command.
“Tell me you want it,” he rasps, voice thick with need.
I try, but the words are gone, stolen by the heat crashing through me. So I kiss him instead, my teeth grazing lips, and that’s all it takes for his control to slip.
He thrusts deep, and I cry out, the sound torn from somewhere raw. The rhythm he sets is punishing and perfect, all grit and desperation, like he’s trying to erase every man who came before him and brand me as his.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel like sin.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, chasing the friction.
My nails score down his back as he rocks into me, and I swear I feel the moment he lets go and gives in to the same hunger that’s tearing me apart.
My whole body tightens around him, caught in the swell of something I can’t name, something that terrifies me with how right it feels.
I’ve never felt this kind of passion before, and I’m scared it’s going to consume me.
My head falls back, eyes fluttering shut.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart,” he growls.
The command slices through the haze, yanks me back into the moment. I meet his gaze locked on mine like he’s trying to anchor both of us.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s it. Look at me while I fuck you.”
I cling to him, my body trembling as the wave builds inside me. He keeps talking, voice low and filthy in my ear, every word pushing me closer to the edge.
“Gonna make sure no one else ever gets this again. Just me. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, eyes burning.
He grips my thigh tighter, thrusting harder now, mouth dragging over my collarbone like he can’t get enough. I see stars behind my eyes, but I keep them open for him.
“Rhett!” I cry out.
He groans as he follows, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, like he’s just claimed something he never thought he could have. We collapse together, sweat-slicked and breathless, limbs tangled. But even as the tremors fade, he doesn’t move away.
His lips brush my temple, his voice raw and low.
“Someday,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna want all of it. A future. A family. You.”
My heart catches fire all over again, but I only move closer to him.
Me, too, I think. Me, too.