Chapter 52
Kelly
Jake’s words fade and I swallow the lump in my throat, the dim light from the lighthouse casting shadows across his strong features.
“Jake,” I whisper, my voice barely there, my heart thudding so loud it could drown out the storm outside. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
The words leave my mouth, soft and true, and he pulls me close, his kisses pressing into my hair, my cheeks. He’s mapping out every part of me, committing this moment to memory. The space between us evaporates, and my lips find his in a desperate kiss that tastes of hope and home.
“I love you too,” he says between kisses. “Every stubborn bone in your gorgeous body.” Each I love you is a thread weaving us back together, one by one, until there’s no space left between us.
His arms encircle me, pulling me closer until I’m perched on his lap. Heat spools through me, radiating from where our bodies meet. The kiss deepens, and the solid length of him presses against me, igniting a fire that makes me forget about the icy chill of the blizzard outside.
“God, Kel,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. “I just fucking love you.”
“Me too,” I sigh back, tangling my fingers in his dark hair. There’s a hunger in the way his mouth moves with mine, a yearning that mirrors my own.
Right now, it’s just us—the storm howling its lonely song outside, while inside, we’re catching fire. The world beyond Harbor’s Edge fades away. It’s just Jake and me, and the promise of love in a town that's seen its share of pain, but also its share of second chances, of hope. We’re finally finding one another, the real us, a perfect spring after a long, harsh winter.
Jake’s hands move up and under the layers of my clothing. He nudges my bra aside, cups my breasts, his touch pebbling my nipples, sending sparks across my skin. His tongue dances with mine, a slanting pressure that’s both insistent and tender.
“Is this okay?” he says against my mouth. “We’ve had a big day. I don’t want to rush you.”
“More than,” I whisper back, my voice catching on a thread of emotion. There’s no room for anything here other than Jake’s hands moving over the terrain of my body.
I find the hem of his sweater, his shirt, pulling them upward, the taut muscles of his abdomen beneath my fingers. We break apart just enough to pull our clothes off, shedding the fabric, an unbearable barrier, our movements clumsy and eager, like it’s our first time all over again.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze tracing over me with such intensity.
He grabs the blanket on the floor and spreads it out. It’s not a neatly made bed, but there’s something about this moment that’s perfect as he guides me down onto the soft fabric, the storm raging just outside. The kiss that follows is a slow burn, melting the frost from my soul. I taste the remnants of the blizzard in the coolness of his lips.
“Kelly,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, and he senses it too—the mending, the healing. The lighthouse may be small, but at this moment, it’s our world, vast and infinite.
“Jake.” My heart speaks his name, my fingers tracing the lines of his face, memorizing the shape of his jaw, his nose.
His mouth moves down my body, the heat of it on my breasts, my stomach, his tongue moving between my legs before working slowly at my clit. Heat rolls through me, and he brings me to the edge and then over so fast, I’m breathless.
He kisses his way back up my body and I reach down, gripping his hard shaft, stroking him, arching my back because I need him inside me right now .
“Do you think we’re the first to do it up here?” A wicked grin crosses his face.
“I bet we’re not.”
As Jake positions himself, the solid length of him presses against the wet heat of me. He meets my eyes with a look so intense it could ignite the very air between us. I breathe out, barely able to contain the anticipation coiling inside me.
He enters me slowly, reverently. My body molds to his, welcoming him home, and we move together, every stroke filled with emotion.
“Kelly,” Jake groans, his hand sliding down to where we are joined, his fingers finding my clit. His movements are deliberate, circling as the hard length of him bottoms out, then slides inside me again and again.
“Jake,” I gasp, nails digging into his broad shoulders. Everything’s building, the pressure, the intensity, all spiraling towards something monumental. His hips keep rolling, steady and sure, fully sheathing himself within me. There’s a promise in every thrust, a silent vow that echoes through my bones.
“Come for me,” he urges, his voice laced with desire. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Kelly. I’m yours, all of me.”
His words unravel me in a cascade of sensation. My climax hits, powerful and relentless, and Jake’s own release follows, accompanied by a deep growl muffled against my neck as he holds me tight. We lie there for a moment, both breathing hard, clinging to each other as the blizzard continues its furious assault outside, the wind howling and snow pelting against the lighthouse walls.
A part of me knows it’s tearing apart the installations I’d once pinned my hopes on.
I can almost feel the pieces shattering out there, blown around, scraps of a dream I’d clung to for so long, dissolving into the storm’s relentless fury. But here, wrapped in Jake’s arms, the worry and disappointment is distant, softened by his embrace. His hand rests steady against my back, the rough calluses on his fingertips grounding me, while his breath, warm against my temple, reminds me that I’m safe. Loved.
My mind drifts to the pain of losing Mom, the weight of every expectation I tried to meet, the frantic need to keep everything perfectly in line. The desire to make her proud is still there, but it’s different now. Tempered.
Somehow, in Jake’s arms, the pain eases just enough for something else to creep in—a kind of peace, deep and unshakeable, a sensation of being loved, just as I am.
It’s so rare, so startling, that it brings a pang to my chest. I’ve chased this for so long, but I never thought I’d actually find it.
This… this is what it means to be whole. Not checking off endless boxes, not scrambling to meet impossible standards, not bending myself into a thousand shapes to fit someone else’s mold.
It’s here, in the quiet strength of his arms, where every imperfection, every broken piece, is just another part of me he loves. I’ve spent years living with the notion that only perfection could make me worthy, but now I realize I got it backward. It’s the presence of love that makes me feel perfect—love so real and true that it’s hard not to see myself through his eyes.
I look up, meeting his gaze, and in that instant, his acceptance washes over me, pure and unguarded.
I’m home.