Chapter Thirty-Four
The stupid tears spill down my cheeks.
I don’t know what’s breaking me more—how good it felt to finally let him in again, or the ache of knowing how close we came to never.
He notices. Of course he does.
His mouth is gentler now, tongue tracing over each freckle—as if he still sees the girl I used to be.
He drags his nose up my spine. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head. Can’t. Not yet.
His chin settles on my shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
“I couldn’t look at you,” I whisper. “Not without seeing everything we did, everything h-he made us do.”
“I know,” Kade murmurs into my hair. “I see it too. Every time I close my eyes.”
“I don’t … I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to … to feel good. Even just for a bit.”
“Is that why you pushed me away?”
I press my face into the pillow. It smells like him—cedar and musk … the weeks he’s spent hiding down here.
“I couldn’t stop seeing them. Kristy. Lana. And Wesley, he—”
“You think they’d want you miserable for the rest of your life?” Kade presses a kiss to my shoulder blade, his stubble prickling my skin.
My breath shudders out. I should see a real therapist—not someone who’s obviously treating trauma with pain meds.
He keeps quiet, rubbing slow circles on my back. Like if he touches me long enough, maybe it’ll bleed through his skin instead.
“I think about it too,” he says eventually, voice hoarse. “The bodies. The cameras. Every second you were under him and I couldn’t—”
I roll over to face him. “You saved me.”
His jaw tightens. “Not fast enough.”
And in that moment, I see it—how it still chews him up from the inside. The same weight I’ve been carrying, mirrored in someone who knows exactly what it costs.
What we lost.
What we’re learning how to live with.
Them. Us. The version of ourselves that made it out.
He dips his head to meet me, nosing my chin, breathing me in. He looks ruined. Hollowed out. Every edge soft in the aftermath. Like he’s still halfway bleeding out in that chapel.
I press my forehead to his. “We’re not okay, are we?”
“No.” He brushes my hair back. “But we’re here.”
That’s enough to crack me wide open. Not in a bad way. Not anymore.
I say it for both of us. “I missed you.”
“Then stay. I’ll chain you to the bed if I have to.” He plants a kiss on my palm. “Or you could move in with me.”
I blink. “Are you kidding?”
“Where were you gonna go, anyway?”
“My parents. Temporarily. At least until I figure out what normal’s supposed to feel like.”
“We could get a place together. You, me, and Max. Maybe somewhere nearby so I can still swing by to check on her.”
Her. He means his mother. And he’s dead serious.
My stomach drops—like my heart just got hijacked.
I should laugh. Tell him he’s insane for going from zero to living together.
But he says it with the same quiet certainty I feel whenever I let myself imagine it.
Us. A real home. A family.
Something more.
Something good.
I kiss him—soft, sweet.
He pulls back to rasp, “So that a yes?”
“Might be.” My hand slides down his stomach.
“Might?”
I wrap my fingers around his cock—already half-hard, getting harder. His breath stutters.
“I mean…” I give him a few pumps. “I’ll need at least two-thirds of the closet.”
“You can have the whole damn thing. I’ll live out of a backpack if you keep doing that.”
I lean down and swirl my tongue around the head of his cock. “And I’ll choose the mattress.”
“Fine. But Max gets to pick the couch.”
“Deal,” I say, mouthing down the underside of his shaft. “But we’re not adopting a dog just because Max wants one.”
“Too late. He’s already picked a name.”
“Oh, has he?” I stroke him again. “And when exactly did you agree to that?”
“Somewhere between you trying to ghost me and realizing I’d do anything to keep you.”
I lift a brow. “Desperate.”
“Devoted. And catastrophically dick-drunk.”
I suck him like a lollipop, watching his eyes roll back. “Okay. But if we get a dog, I’m naming it Gizmo.”
“You already did that to the cat.”
I blink. “What cat?”
He gives me a look. “The demon tabby you hauled out of a tree while drunk. Bit my ear. Slept in my laundry basket for a week.”
“Right,” I say brightly. “You read it sonnets on Halloween.”
He snorts. “Bullshit.”
“And you made it scrambled eggs.”
“It was malnourished. And still not my cat.” His cock twitches in my grip.
“Guess it recognized the one sucker who’d spoil it rotten.”
Kade groans. “You gonna keep talking or ride me?”
“Depends.” My tongue flicks over his tip. “Do I still get the whole closet?”
“Take the closet. Take the house.”
I lick a stripe up his length. Press a kiss to the scar on his hipbone. “And?”
“I’ll cook dinner.”
I straddle him with a grin. “You don’t cook.”
“I’d learn. For this? I’d fucking master chef for you.”
I sink down onto him in one torturous, wet glide.
“Fuck, Payton.” His abs tense under my palms. “You take my cock so damn good.”
His fingers dig into my hips, but I set the pace—slow, brutal, slow again.
“Still think you’re in charge?”
His hands slide up to my breasts, thumbs circling my areolas. “Only when it counts, little fox.”
He pinches my nipples. I clench around him.
“Yeah,” he snarls. “Right there. Squeeze me just like that.”
I roll my hips. Grind down to the base. He arches beneath me, teeth bared like he’s on the edge of prayer or profanity.
My head tips back. Full. So full. And still wanting.
His hands are everywhere.
My lips brush his ear. “Come inside me. I want to feel you for days.”
I slam down harder, chasing the edge.
He yanks me into a vicious kiss—all teeth and tongue.
I break away, gasping. “Kade, I’m gonna—”
Punch. Crack. A sob in my throat. My whole body locks around him.
He hauls me into another kiss—deep and dizzy and too much to hold—
One sharp thrust and he follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, fucking me through it.
Every hot pulse a vow.
This. Us. For fucking keeps.
I stay on top of him. Folded into him. Feeling every throb.
He holds me. Rubs my back. Murmurs sweet, soft nothings.
The door creaks open.
“Hey, Kade, did you—oh, gross.”
slam.
Max screeches through the wood. “I’m blind. I need bleach. I’m never coming down here again!”
“It’s called knocking,” Kade yells back. “Try it sometime—unless you want me to start barging in during your Minecraft weddings.”
“That was one time!”
“Tell your blocky fiancée I said hi.”
Another door slams.
I snort into Kade’s shoulder. “You’re a monster.”
We burst out laughing—the kind that tastes like relief after too damn long in the dark.
His arm wraps around me. “That kid’s gonna need therapy.”
I pillow my cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “You think he still wants to move in with us?”
“Yeah. He’s already got us down for a puppy.”
“Wait, us?”
He doesn’t answer—just tugs me closer.
I settle into his side, sweat cooling—
The woods. The chapel. His knife. Me on that altar, him with a bullet in his gut.
And now, this. Us.
Tangled up. Alive.
His hand curls around my hip.
“Kade …”
He’s hardening again. His smile is lazy. Dangerous. “That didn’t count as aftercare, did it?”
“That was aftercare?”
His fingers dip lower. Slick and seeking. He rubs a tight circle on my clit.
“Okay,” I breathe, hips twitching. “Maybe partial credit.”
His teeth graze my neck. “Then I’ll make it worth the full grade.”
He flips me and pushes back in, his body blanketing mine.
“You’re still so tight,” he growls, dragging his fingers along where we’re connected.
I’m soaked. Stretched. Slick enough he’s gliding in and out with obscene ease, and he knows it. He’s using it. Dragging every breathy sigh out of me.
“You sure you’re not just addicted to me?”
He chuckles. “You have no idea.”
He fists my hair. His other arm slides under me, palm cupping my breast. Thumb circling my nipple until I’m squirming beneath him.
“Kade, fuck—”
The drag of him, thick and hard—and I’m already tilting my hips. I arch back into him.
“Wait.”
His cock twitches inside me, but he stills.
“Let’s try anal.”
“You sure?”
I glance over my shoulder. “I trust you.”
He eases out of me. “Payton—”
“I want it. Your cock in my ass.”
His throat works. “Okay. We’ll take our time.”
“I don’t want gentle.”
I want the breaking. Want every crack filled with him, every fractured part stitched together by the weight of us.
A growl rips from his chest. He drags me up, my back flush against his chest, one hand fisting in my hair. His other hand skates down my stomach, between my thighs.
“Gonna prep you first.” He rubs my clit, teeth scraping my shoulder. “Gonna make you drip for it.”
I push back against him. “Kade—”
“Patience, little fox.” He slips two fingers inside my pussy, crooking them just right. “Gonna fuck you here until you’re so wet and used you can’t stand it. Gonna lick you open. And when you’re begging?” He nips my earlobe. “Then I’ll give you my cock.”
I shudder. That spot. He’s found it. His thumb stays on my clit, relentless.
“Look at you,” he rasps. “Taking my fingers so good. Gonna take my tongue next. Then my cock. Gonna ruin you.”
He withdraws. Spreads me wide.
The first lick up my ass steals my breath.
“Fuck,” I gasp into the sheets.
It feels dirty—yet so fucking good. I’d let him do it again just to chase this high. And I need it. Need him. Need to be wrecked so thoroughly that wrong and right blur into something I’ll crave on my deathbed.
Another long, exquisite stripe.
His spit lands hot on my rear entrance. Fingers in my pussy. Thumb on my clit.
My vision whites out at the edges. “Kade—”
A nip that says ‘Mine.’ His tongue spears inside again—and I’m gone.
He works me through it all until I’m sobbing nonsense into the mattress.
“That’s my dirty little fox,” he rasps, turning my face toward him. “Ruined and perfect. All mine.”
His fingers glide past my swollen clit to circle that tight ring of muscle.
“Relax.” His teeth graze my shoulder blade. “Just me.”
One thick finger presses in—claiming space, millimeter by millimeter, until the resistance gives.
My spine arches. My lungs forget how air works.
“Breathe,” he murmurs against my nape. “I’ve got you.”