Chapter 31 #2
And when he finally pushes into me, when our bodies fully, finally come together, I feel it deep in my soul. A knowing. A truth. Something ancient and undeniable.
We were never meant to be anything but this. It’s why it hurt so deep then. Why I couldn’t forgive him—or myself.
This was always our truth.
Joel shudders—hard. His lips drop to mine, his hands tightening at my waist like he’s holding on for dear life.
“Jesus fuck. You feel—fuck,” he rasps, his voice nothing but gravel.
I gasp, my nails digging into his back, as a moan floats past my lips. “Oh, my God, Joel.”
I can’t even speak. Can’t breathe.
His thumb skates along my jaw, his breath ragged. “Say my name again.”
“Don’t stop, Joel,” I practically pant, keeping my eyes on his—holding his gaze like an embrace.
He stills above me, his breath uneven, ragged. His hands thread through mine, fingers tangling, pinning them above my head.
“Anna, I—” he murmurs, his voice breaking.
I kiss him.
He releases my hands and I hold him, digging my fingertips into his back.
And then we move.
Slow and deep.
Every thrust, every whispered name, every shuddering gasp and curse—it’s a confession. A prayer. A breaking apart and a putting back together.
There’s no turning back because I want this—God, do I want this.
So, I let go.
I give him everything.
And he gives it right back.
Joel moves, slow at first, like he’s still absorbing the fact that we’re finally here. That this is happening. That we’re happening.
He’s everywhere—his hands, his mouth, the heat of his body pressing into mine like he can’t get close enough. Like there will never be enough of this, of us.
I feel him start to tremble.
A deep, ragged moan rumbles from his chest as I arch beneath him, my name slipping past his lips in something close to worship.
I hold onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring me to this moment. Because maybe he is.
Maybe he always was.
It’s too much, and yet—I want more.
Every thrust, every pull, every whisper against my skin sends me higher. Until I can’t breathe, can’t think—can only feel. Feel him.
He flips me over, guiding me to ride him, his breath warm and unsteady. “Anna,” he rasps, voice breaking as he reaches up, his hands warm and playful on my breasts.
I bend forward, fisting my hands in his hair, needing to feel him deeper. “I know,” I whisper back.
And then—I break.
The world slips away, pleasure ripping through me so fast and sharp, I almost forget how to breathe. But he’s here—he’s right here—watching me fall apart, following me over the edge, losing himself in me.
His body shakes with the force of it, his grip on me unrelenting, his mouth almost biting down at the space where my neck meets my shoulder like he can somehow keep this moment between us forever.
I don’t even realize I’m still holding onto him.
“Holy shit,” I mumble against his shoulder, my limbs still shaking.
He lets out a breathless laugh. “Ace, you just made me see God.”
I grin, half-delirious. “Hope you said something nice.”
He lifts his head, grinning like the cockiest bastard alive. “Oh, I did. I said, thank you, sir, may I have another?”
I groan, shoving his face away. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet, you’re still on top of me.” He tips his hips up slightly, reminding me just how deeply embedded he is.
Then, he shifts just enough to look at me, his palm cupping the side of my face, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone.
I expect him to smirk, to tease, to say something else cocky.
He doesn’t.
He just watches me with those soulful green eyes.
Like he knew, like he always knew, but having me here, like this, still knocks the breath from his lungs. I know the feeling.
His fingers skate down my side, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my hip.
“You okay?” he whispers. There’s a hint of insecurity there, and I know I put that there. But I also know I’ll be the one to remove it.
I don’t even realize I’m smiling until I hear my own voice. “More than okay.”
His exhale is shaky, like he’s been holding something in for too damn long. “Good.”
And then, finally, he pulls me against his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple.
By the time we fall apart, by the time we’re nothing but tangled limbs and desperate, uneven breaths, I know—I know.
There’s no running from this.
No undoing it.
No pretending I don’t want everything he’s offering.
Joel shifts beside me, pulling me against his chest, his lips brushing my temple, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over my spine.
“Okay,” I whisper into his neck as I plant more kisses there.
His whole body stills.
Then—slowly, deliberately—he turns his head, tipping my chin up so I have to look him in the eye.
There’s something wild in his expression. Something wrecked and whole at the same time. Like he’s still bracing for me to change my mind or maybe he’s terrified of believing it.
His fingers tighten at my waist, his voice barely a breath.
“Okay?” His voice is quiet, rough at the edges.
I nod, pressing a kiss to his chin, letting myself believe it. “I’ll go with you.”
He exhales sharply, like the words knock something loose inside him. His hands slide up my spine, cradling me close.
And then, he whispers, “Say it again.”
His chest rises sharply.
And I realize—this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Not the sex. Not the tour. Not the second chance.
This.
Me staying.
Me choosing him.
Maybe because he never thought I would. Not after everything. Maybe he didn’t think he’d ever deserve it.
I cup his face, smoothing my thumb over his cheek, anchoring myself to him. “I’ll go with you, Joel.”
And then—he’s kissing me.
It’s not desperate. Not rough.
It’s slow. Deep.
A promise.
A thank you.
And when I whisper the words one more time, his grip tightens, and his lips find mine again. It’s a slow, lingering kiss.
“You know this means your gonna be my groupie, right?”
I roll my eyes, shoving at his chest, but he just laughs, catching my hand, and threading our fingers together.
I huff against his shoulder. “Great. Stuck on a tour bus with you and a bunch of smelly men. My actual nightmare.”
Joel lifts his head, eyes narrowing with mock offense. “Excuse me? Stuck with me?” He scoffs. “I give it a week before you’re wearing a ‘Mrs. Joel Price’ shirt and fighting fangirls in the crowd with your evil death glare.”
I snort. “I would rather choke on a guitar pick.”
His grin turns downright wicked. “Oh, Ace. That’s not the only thing you’re gonna be choking on.”
I freeze. My mouth drops open. “You did not just—”
Joel just smirks, smug and unrepentant.
“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face. “We’re breaking up.”
He tugs my hands away from my face, shaking his head like I’m the one who’s ridiculous. “Too late, Ace. No take-backs. You signed up for this.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did I?”
His smirk softens, something warm slipping into the edges. “Yeah.” Then, he presses his lips to mine, lingering just long enough to steal my breath. “You did.”
I sigh dramatically. “I really need to start reading the fine print.”
Joel grins against my skin, lips brushing my jaw. “Too late. No refunds. No exchanges. I’ve branded myself to you now.”
“Oh, I’m exchanging you immediately for store credit,” I tease, tickling him along his side.
His laughter rumbles through his chest. “Ace, I am custom-made for you—you’re never getting a deal this good again.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Unbelievable.”
He tilts his head, feigning deep thought. “Well, I guess there’s one guy you could trade me in for.”
I arch a brow. “Yeah?”
Joel nods solemnly. “Quinn. But, uh, from what you’ve told me, he’s rooting for the other team.”
I snort. “Accurate. Besides, I’d have to listen to all of his deeply unhinged Taylor Swift theories.”
Joel grins. “Yeah, no offense, Ace, but you wouldn’t survive that.”
I groan. “You’re right. I’d rather suffer.”
Joel smirks, smug. “That’s my girl.”
My heart full-on beams at that sentence. God, I’m so toast.
I shove at his chest, but he just laughs, catching my hand, threading our fingers together.
And—damn it. He’s right.
I really did sign up for this.
First, when I was a dumb, love-sick teenager. And now—when I actually know what I’m saying yes to.
And I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.