Chapter 162 Callum （His Ending）
callum (his ending)
Every time he touched me, I remembered I wasn’t broken. I was just waiting for him—to find me, to complete me, to build a future we would create together. –Aurelie
Ihauled Aurélie back into the bed. She made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. The tension in her shoulders melted, her body folding closer to mine as though I’d lifted a hundred pounds off her chest.
“Mon amour,” she whispered, eyes closing as tears slipped free, “you don’t know what that means to me.”
“Yes, I do,” I murmured, brushing a kiss to her damp lashes, then her temple, then the bruise along her cheekbone. “Because yesterday, I thought I lost you. And now you’re here, and you’re mine, and I’ll never let you believe you’re anything less than whole.”
She sagged against me, the release rolling off her in waves, trembling but lighter, finally lighter.
And then I asked the only thing that mattered, because she needed to know that she still had a choice, even when it didn’t feel like it.
“Do you want kids, Aurélie?”
She froze. Slowly, her tear-wet lashes lifted, hazel eyes swimming as they met mine. Her lower lip wobbled. And then—barely, just barely—she nodded.
I exhaled like I’d been underwater for years, relief crashing through me so hard it left me dizzy.
My hand cupped her face, thumb catching the tears there.
“Okay,” I murmured. “That’s all I need to know.
If you want them, then we’ll figure it out.
Other options, other paths. Whatever it takes.
But I need to understand everything, so I can be here for you.
So I can be what you need. Because I’m not going anywhere, Aurélie. ”
She pressed a gentle kiss to my chest, right above my heart, sighing. Then she asked, quiet as can be, “What about you?”
“I want them too. But the craziest thing?” My fingers combed through her tangled golden strands, and it felt more right than ever before. “I never thought about it before you. Not once in my life. And now the future is all I think about. Only ever with you.”
Her breath broke on a sob that sounded almost like a laugh, fragile but lighter, freer.
“And by the way,” I whispered, brushing my mouth across hers, lingering like a vow, my other hand moving to flatten over her stomach, “your body isn’t broken.
It’s perfect. Exactly how it was always meant to be.
Made for me. To carry me when I couldn’t, to fit against me like two halves of the same heartbeat, to remind me every day that home isn’t a place or a podium. It’s you.”
I pulled her closer, forehead to forehead, letting her feel every word in my breath. “And if you’re okay with it, when you’re ready… I’d like to hear all the information. Everything you know. Or we can go get answers, so we can plan. Together.”
Aurélie rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hand, her long hair tumbling in wild waves across the pillow. Her eyes shimmered when they found mine, and she looked at me like I was the only man in the universe. Dreamy. Soft. Mischievous.
The moment was still a little too tender for a joke, but she made it anyway.
“Plan, hmm? Then we’d better call your mum.
She’s probably already chosen the church.
” At my frown, she grinned. It was her first real smile in too many days, and I melted at the sight.
“Remember? She told you to marry that French girl someday. Don’t let her down. ”
Oh my God.
I laughed, so hoarse and sudden that the air knocked out of me. It was so unexpected, so fucking her, that I couldn’t stop it. It was different than last night’s hysterical moment before we fell asleep. This was catharsis, this was hope, this was love.
My chest actually hurt from how much I loved her in that moment. “Christ, woman,” I groaned, my accent thickening until it was all gravel and want. I dragged her across the bed until she was flush against me. “You’re going to kill me one day.”
She giggled, warm and soft, and I kissed her like I’d been waiting my whole bloody life for this exact moment. That giggle dissolved into a gasp in my mouth, and I swallowed it.
“Do you have any idea what that sound does to me?” I breathed. “You could burn me alive with it, and I’d thank you.”
“Mmm,” she responded, and I felt that smile all the way down to my toes. “Pain and poetry. C’est… comment dit… hot as fuck?”
I barked out a laugh so hard I had to break the kiss, dropping my forehead to hers. My chest shook, the sound rough and unrestrained, and she giggled with me, smug as hell. “Jesus, Aurélie,” I rasped between laughs. “That is not how that phrase works.”
“Pfft, I beg to differ. It works on you,” she shot back, cheeky little smirk tugging her lips.
Before I could recover, she tilted her head, eyes flicking mischievous but soft at the edges. “Non. Your weak spot, remember? Tu es mon weak spot.”
And just like that, my laughter snagged in my throat. My lungs forgot how to work. My grip tightened in her hair, desperate, reverent, because fuck me. That hit deeper than anything she’d ever said. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You really are gonna undo me.”
“I already have.” Her lips brushed mine, hazel eyes darkening, and she went in for the kill. “Besides… you like it. Admit, mon amour,” and in a godawful Scottish accent that sounded more Irish than anything, “it’s bloody romantic.”
I groaned, the sound torn straight from my chest, half-laugh and half-plea.
My hand gripped behind her knee and hitched her leg over my hip so I could press my now-throbbing cock against her.
“God, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?
” My mouth found hers, hungrily now, swallowing her laugh as my heart fucking split wide open.
Her laugh vibrated against my lips, wicked and sweet at once. Then she kissed me, slow and sinful, her tongue sweeping into my mouth before she pulled back just enough to breathe.
“No,” she sighed, her accent curling around the word like smoke. “I’m trying to resurrect you.”
My eyes flew wide. Blood roared in my ears, my cock pulsing against her wet heat.
That one word—resurrect—landed square in my chest, brutal and holy.
I choked out something between a gasp and a curse.
“Baby,” I rasped, my hips surging helplessly against her, “you can’t just fucking say things like that. ”
“Oh, but I can,” she whispered, smug and breathless, biting my lower lip before letting it go with a wet snap. I groaned, and her hazel eyes glinted with something both tender and filthy. “Maybe next time, I’ll make you beg for your resurrection. You always rise so perfectly for me, mon amour.”
And then she moved. In one smooth roll, she shifted to straddle me, her hair falling around our faces like a curtain as her hips ground down slow and deliberate.
Fuck. Me. Dead.
My laugh came out strangled, shredded by the pure want ripping through me. She was in control, and she knew it. And I’d never been more gone in my fucking life.
“You know what will really kill me, love, is if you keep looking at me like you’re already my wife.”
Aurélie grinned down at me, wicked and gorgeous, her hair brushed my chest as she rocked down harder. “Pink peonies, yes? For the church aisle? Or maybe on the cake too. Tell me, mon c?ur, will you wear a kilt at the altar, or is that reserved for just the naughty ones?”
My laugh broke on a groan, my hands gripping her hips, already half-undone. “A church, love? I would’ve guessed you’d want your beloved lavender fields. Barefoot bride, smelling like sunshine and wildflowers.”
She tilted her head, eyes shimmering with something dangerously close to hope. “Maybe both.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” I muttered, one palm sliding up her spine to grip her neck, pulling her down until our noses brushed. “I’ll marry you wherever you want, baby. A church, a field, a bloody parking lot. As long as I can bow at your feet, worship you, and make you mine forever.”
She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, hazel eyes going wide. “Hmm, well if I get my way, I’ll have you on your knees before the vows. Let the whole fucking world know we belonged to each other long before we said I do.”
I smirked, twisting my fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck in a claiming hold. “Then I’d better start practicing how to look humbled. Hope the vicar’s comfortable, because I’ll be taking my time.”
“After I take your last name, and I’m Mrs. Fraser, will the cake be chocolate, or just me on my knees in white lace?” She arched one brow, devilishly sexy and ridiculous. “Also, what do we teach our kids—however that looks for us—to call you? Daddy or Father?” Her grin was maddening.
I groaned so loud it rattled the walls. Jesus Christ. My brain short-circuited between marry-her-tomorrow and take-her-right-now. Both felt like redemption.
Her hips found the exact arc that undid me.
She shifted, agonizingly slow, the wet press of her perfect little pussy sliding against me in a way that had me gone before the next word left her mouth.
The duvet fell off us as she rocked. My hand on her hip squeezed, the other sliding around her neck to grip her throat, palms learning the shape of her like a prayer.
My cock hardened until it throbbed hot and impatient against her, every inch of me homed to the way she moved.
I kissed her hard, nipping her bottom lip before growling, “Maybe I’ll bend you over the altar itself.
Let the whole bloody congregation know I claimed you before God could.
” My mouth hovered by her ear, words ragged.
“And then I’ll ruin you in that dress, lace bunched around your hips, pearls rattling as I fuck you until you can’t even say your vows without moaning my name. ”