Chapter 13
Juniper
His breathing slows first. Then mine. Our bodies are still slick as Rhett throws a blanket over us.
The only sound is the soft creak of the ceiling fan and the occasional murmur of wind brushing the windows.
Rhett’s hand stays at my waist. His thumb rubs lazy circles against my skin, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel safe.
I don’t mean to fall asleep, but the warmth of his body, the heaviness in my limbs, and the hush of the dark pulls me under like a tide.
I don’t dream.
At first.
But somewhere deep in the black, Rhett slips away and another replaces him.
Suddenly I’m not in Rhett’s bed anymore. I’m back in that godforsaken church, the air thick with something that always made my stomach turn. I’m frozen. Small. My throat won’t open. My voice won’t work. And he’s there—towering, touching, taking—
No.
I try to move but I can’t. My hands won’t work. My skin burns. The shadows twist. He says my name like a curse. Like I’m his to ruin.
I choke on air.
And then I scream.
It’s not loud but guttural. Enough to snap me up from the dream with a gasp.
I bolt upright, heart pounding, soaked in sweat. The sheets are tangled around my legs and I’m clawing at them like they’re chains.
“Juniper—”
Rhett’s voice is there. Rough with sleep but alarmed. His arms are around me before I can fully register where I am, strong and steady as he pulls me against his chest.
“You’re safe,” he says, voice low and firm against my ear. “You’re with me. It’s over.”
But my hands won’t stop shaking. I feel like I’m still halfway there, still caught in Chester’s orbit, in the past I’ve buried beneath layers of steel and silence.
Rhett doesn’t push. He just holds me. I bury my face in his chest, trying to breathe through it. Inhale. Exhale. But it doesn’t come easy. The smell of him should calm me, and it does, a little. But the shaking won't stop.
He shifts us gently, pulling the blanket back up, wrapping me in it like a shield.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “No one’s gonna hurt you here, sweetheart. Not while I’m breathing.”
That breaks something in me. Something that reaches for his words like a lifeline.
“I hate that he still gets in,” I whisper, voice barely audible.
Rhett’s arms tighten.
“He doesn’t. Not really. He’s just echoes, Juniper. He’s not here.”
I nod, but it’s mechanical. I don’t want to admit that the dream felt more real than the sheets under me now. That the feel of Chester’s hand in that church was seared into my memory in ways I’ll never scrape clean.
“I was back in church” I finally say, voice shaking. “In the back room.”
Rhett tenses.
“In the dream, it smelled the same. Like sweat and lies and old hymnals.” My voice cracks. “And he was behind me. Saying my name like I should trust him.”
His hand moves to my hair, stroking. “You’re not there now. You’re here. With me.”
“I couldn’t scream. I tried, but nothing came out.”
“You screamed tonight,” he says. “It woke me up fast.”
I blink. “I did?”
“Yeah.” He pulls back just enough to tip my chin up, eyes searching mine in the dim light. “Sounded like you were fighting your way out. And you did.”
The tears come then. Silent, hot, and unwelcomed. I hate crying in front of anyone. But Rhett doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t shame me or soften into pity. He just takes it. Lets me break a little. Holds the pieces like they’re precious.
“Sometimes,” I whisper, “I feel like it was my fault. I’m the one who went to the church that night.”
I’d gone because my mother wanted me to give him a dessert from the fair. The same fair where I was crowned Miss. Cream of the Crop.
I shake my head, shoving the memory aside.
“It feels like he’s going to attack again when I least expect it.”
“He won’t,” Rhett says, voice dark with something that borders on rage. “I swear to God, Juniper. No one touches you again. Not like that. Not ever.”
His promise isn’t flowery or dramatic. It’s fierce. And I believe him.
I tuck my head under his chin and let him hold me until the tremors fade and the weight of the nightmare slips back into the dark where it belongs.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmur sometime later.
“I’d rather wake to you screaming than not have you here at all.”
That undoes me in a different way.
And when I finally fall asleep again, it’s with my face tucked against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear and no shadows waiting on the other side.
Just him.
Just warmth.
Just the slow, steady beginning of safety.
Morning comes too soon, golden light slanting through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the bed. The air is still warm from the night before, but it’s calmer now like even the house knows something shifted.
I blink awake to find myself still wrapped in Rhett’s arms, one of his legs tangled over mine like he’s been guarding me in his sleep. He’s awake. Watching me. That same quiet focus in his eyes that makes me feel seen and entirely undone.
“We slept in,” I say, voice still heavy with sleep.
“That we did.”
I shift to face him, head resting on the same pillow, our noses almost brushing. His hair is a mess and his stubble’s rough, but he’s never looked more gorgeous.
I smile. “Didn’t think it was possible for you to break from your rigorous schedule.”
“It’s possible,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to my mouth, “when a young thing wore me out last night. But I won’t bore you with the graphic details.”
“Good.” I wait a beat and give him a cheeky smile. “About those graphic details…”
He groans and scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Highly unlikely,” I say, rolling half onto his chest and propping my chin on his sternum. “But what a way to go.”
His hands settle on my hips.
“You really want me to describe it?” His voice is lower now, still playful but laced with something rougher. “Because I remember every sound you made. Every time you said my name like it was the only word you knew.”
Heat blooms down my spine.
“I remember how you looked when I first slid inside you,” he continues, eyes darkening, “how your legs wrapped around me like you never wanted to let go. How you clawed at my back like you couldn’t stand the space between us.”
“Rhett—”
“I remember the way you whimpered right before you came,” he adds, dragging his thumb slowly along my waist, “and how you shook after like I’d shattered something in you.”
My mouth has gone dry. My skin? A wildfire.
“You said you wanted graphic, Juniper. Don’t go quiet on me now.”
I suck in a shaky breath. “I’m not quiet. I’m recalibrating.”
He grins like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me and maybe he does. But then he softens, dragging his hand up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing lightly along my cheekbone.
“Last night wasn’t just sex for me. I know it was intense—hell, maybe even overwhelming—but it mattered.”
I nod, the teasing stripped away. “It did for me too.”
His brows lift. “Even the part against the truck?”
I laugh again, and the sound is lighter this time. “Especially that part.”
“Well damn,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss, slower now, full of that same something I felt in the dark. “Now I really don’t want to make breakfast.”
I smile against his lips. “Then don’t.”
He flips me gently onto my back, grinning down at me like he’s already halfway gone.
“Round two, then?”
“Only if you promise to get even more graphic.”
His mouth brushes mine, voice low and full of promise. “Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”
Rhett kisses me like he’s been waiting all night for this. His tongue slides against mine, teasing, tasting. My body responds before I can think, arching into him like instinct and need.
“Didn’t I wear you out?” I murmur against his lips.
“You did. And now I’m coming back for revenge.”
He shifts over me, sliding the sheet away, letting the morning air hit my skin. His hands roam like he wants to rediscover every inch of me in a different light. Fingers trail down my ribs, over my stomach, to the sensitive spot just above my hipbone that makes me gasp.
“That noise right there?” he says, voice gravel soft. “I want to hear more of that.”
“Then stop talking,” I breathe.
He doesn’t.
At least, not with words. His mouth replaces his hand, and I swear he worships me. Kisses like he’s branding me. Touches like he’s claiming me in the most unholy, reverent way. He’s slower this time. Less rough. But it’s no less intense. If anything, it’s worse because it’s wrapped in emotion now.
He knows what I’ve been through.
And he’s making damn sure this moment doesn’t feel like pain.
It feels like power.
“Look at you,” he murmurs against my neck as he rises over me, body hovering, teasing. “Already breathless. You sure you’re ready for round two?”
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer. “If you don’t start, I will.”
His grin is pure sin.
“God, I love when you get bossy.”
When he pushes inside, it’s slower this time.
Just a deep, bone-melting connection that has me moaning into his shoulder and clutching at his arms. He moves with purpose.
Rolls his hips just right. His hands never stop roaming—cupping my breast, threading through my hair, dragging down the length of my thigh as he pins me in place.
“Rhett—”
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple.
Our rhythm builds, a tidal pull of sweat and sound and something bigger than either of us. I lose track of time. Of breath. Of everything but him.
When it finally breaks it’s not sharp like last night.
It’s slow.
Heavy.
Profound.
I cling to him as I fall apart, and he follows with a rough groan and a whisper of my name that sounds like prayer.
He doesn’t move for a long time. Just buries his face in my neck and breathes.
And when he finally does pull back, it’s only enough to press a kiss to my forehead, like punctuation on a promise neither of us have said out loud.
Yet.
Eventually, Rhett shifts, pressing a lazy kiss to my temple.
“As much as I’d like to stay in bed all damn day,” he murmurs, “we’ve gotta get moving.”
“You’re the one who said breakfast could wait.”
He grins. “Yeah, well. Real life didn’t get the memo.”
I lift my head, squinting at him. “What kind of real life?”
He stretches, arms over his head, muscles flexing in a way that makes it very hard to care about anything else. But then his voice drops back into that serious, steady tone I’m still learning to trust.
“I’ve got a meeting at the bank.”
That gets my attention.
“The bank?”
“Mm-hmm.” He climbs out of bed, all casual like he didn’t just ruin me with his massive dick and walks toward his dresser like this is any other day.
I sit up slowly, wrapping the sheet around me. “What kind of meeting?”
He glances over his shoulder, eyes skimming down my body before meeting my gaze again. “One that might change a few things. Nothing bad.”
My stomach tightens. “I’m not a fan of surprises.”
He grabs a change of clothes then walks back over to the bed. Cupping my jaw, he kisses me.
“It’ll be a good one. You’ll see,” he says. “Get dressed. We’ve got about an hour before we need to head out.”
And just like that, he disappears into the bathroom, leaving me sitting in his bed bare, flushed, and wondering what the hell he’s up to.
I wait all of two seconds before slipping out of bed and padding across the hardwood floor. The bathroom door is still ajar, steam curling out like an invitation. I nudge it open just as Rhett steps into the shower, the glass already fogging with heat.
I don’t even pretend to be shy. Not after last night and this morning.
I follow him in, and he glances over his shoulder with a smirk that makes my toes curl.
“Got room for me in here?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Always,” he says, voice rough around the edges.
He shifts so I can stand under the spray first, letting the hot water cascade over my shoulders and down my back. I tilt my head into it, eyes closing. The water is hot enough to feel like a reset.
I’ve never done this before. Not just showering with a ma but being naked and unguarded with someone without expecting them to turn cold after.
So when Rhett reaches for the shampoo and squirts a dollop into his hands, I turn, blinking water from my lashes.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, voice quieter now.
“I want to,” he replies simply.
And he does.
He runs his fingers through my hair with surprising care, massaging my scalp like he’s done it a thousand times.
His touch is firm but gentle with no rush in it.
Just him, making space for me in a way no one ever has.
I close my eyes again not from the water this time, but because it’s almost too much.
“Feels good,” I murmur.
“Good.” He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, his stubble rough and warm. “Lean back.”
I do as I’m told, and he helps rinse the soap out, guiding me like I’m something precious. It’s the kind of care I’ve never known outside of fiction.
We trade places, and I return the favor, lathering his hair, my fingers sliding through the thick strands. He watches me the whole time, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted.
When the water slicks over both of us again, he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest.
“You ever done this before?” he asks.
“Showered with someone
He nods.
I shake my head. “No. You?”
“Not like this.” He presses his forehead to mine, water streaming around us. “You’re dangerous, Juniper Quinn.”
“You said that already,” I whisper.
“And I meant it.”
We stay like that for a long beat. Just the sound of water and the thrum of something neither of us is ready to name.
Eventually, he gives my hips a gentle squeeze. “Come on. If we stay in here much longer, we’re gonna be late and I won’t be responsible for what happens if I touch you again.”
I smirk, pulling back. “Promises, promises.”
He shuts off the water, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around me before grabbing another for himself. Even now, post-round-two, post-nightmare, post-everything—we’re still orbiting each other.
And I know one thing for sure. Whatever this meeting at the bank is about better be worth leaving this moment behind.