26 #4
The words make something warm bloom in my chest. Because he's not just talking about himself. He's talking about all of them extending their protection to include me and my brother.
Making us family.
"What happens now?" I ask quietly.
"Now?" He shifts slightly. Propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at me. "Now we figure out how to build a life together. One that doesn't involve my mother manipulating us or threatening Liam or forcing you to make impossible choices."
"How do we do that?"
"Move in with me." He says it simply. Like it's obvious. "You and Liam. Officially. Not as my assistant or my project or any of the other bullshit I used to trap you before. Just... move in. Because you want to. Because we're building something together."
I stare at him. "You want my seven-year-old brother to live in your penthouse."
"I want your seven-year-old brother to be safe." His voice is firm. Certain. "I want him to have security and stability and adults who actually give a shit about his wellbeing. If that means converting one of my spare bedrooms into a kid-friendly space, then that's what we'll do."
"Evander—"
"I dove into a lake for him, Aurora." His eyes are intense now. Focused. "I faced my worst fear because I couldn't stand the thought of you losing him. You think I'm going to balk at giving him a bedroom and making sure he has everything he needs?"
The logic is sound. The offer is more than generous.
But—
"What about Mrs. Calloway?" I ask quietly. "She's taken care of him for months. She loves him. I can't just take him away from her."
"So we bring her too. But she is Iris's mother. We can't decide it for her, and I have a feeling Tristan will not like it."
"Why?" she asks clueless.
I just smirk, "You will know about it soon."
I'm staring at him. Trying to process. Trying to understand how we went from a violent confrontation with his mother to planning living arrangements for my entire makeshift family.
"You've really thought about this," I say.
"I've thought about nothing else since I got on that plane.
" He cups my face again. "I almost lost you today, Aurora.
I'm not making that mistake again. So yes, I've thought about every possible way to keep you safe.
To keep Liam safe. To make sure my mother or your father or anyone else can never use them against you. "
He pauses.
"Unless you don't want this. Unless you need space or time or—"
I kiss him. Hard. Cutting off whatever doubt he was about to voice.
When I pull back, I say: "I want this. Want you. Want to build something with you that isn't based on manipulation or control or debt. Want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep in your arms every night."
"Then we'll build it." He kisses me again. Softer this time. "Together."
I settle back into his arms. Let myself feel safe for the first time in hours. Let myself believe that maybe—maybe—we can actually make this work.
His hand slides down my spine. Over the curve of my ass. Between my thighs where I'm still wet and sensitive.
"Again?" I ask breathlessly. "Already?"
"I can't help it." He circles my clit with gentle fingers. "You're here. You're mine. And I spent the past few hours thinking I'd lost you. I need—"
He doesn't finish. Just shows me exactly what he needs by rolling me onto my back and settling between my thighs.
This time is slower. Gentler. He takes his time entering me, watching my face, making sure I can take him despite how sore I must be.
And then he makes love to me. Actually makes love—slow and deep and tender in a way that makes my chest ache. In a way that proves he's not just the monster. He's the man too. The one who loves me enough to be gentle even when gentleness doesn't come naturally to him.
We move together. Unhurried. Learning each other all over again. Finding a rhythm that works for both of us.
When I come this time, it's soft. Gentle. A slow build that crests like a wave and leaves me gasping and shaking in his arms.
He follows right after. Buried deep. My name on his lips.
And then we just hold each other. Tangled in sheets that smell like sex and us. Both of us exhausted. Both of us finally at peace.
"Stay," he murmurs against my hair. "Just like this. Don't move."
"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper back. "I'm here. I'm yours. I'm staying."
He makes a sound that might be relief or exhaustion or both. His breathing gradually evens out. His grip on me relaxing into something less desperate and more peaceful.
And for the first time in months, I feel safe. Truly safe.
Not because someone is controlling my circumstances or protecting me from threats.
But because I chose this. Chose him. Chose to build something real with a boy who became a monster to survive and found his way back to being human for me.
We fall asleep tangled together. In my childhood bedroom. In the small house where I learned what survival meant. In the space between who we were and who we're choosing to become.
And when morning comes, we'll figure out the rest.
Together.