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"I was too rough with you," I confess quietly, while my lips brush her skin as I move to her other breast. I suck gently this time, slow circles with my tongue until she whimpers.

"I needed it. Needed to feel you fall apart for me after you ran." I lift my head, meeting her eyes. "But you took it so fucking well, Audra. My perfect girl."

Her cheeks flush darker. She bites her lip, and fuck if that doesn't make me want to ruin her all over again. Instead, I roll us slowly, settling between her thighs without putting my full weight on her. My cock rests hot and heavy against her folds, already slick from how wet she's getting just from this.

This time, I don't thrust in hard. I rock against her, letting the head nudge her clit with every slow glide. Teasing. Building. Her breath hitches, her hips lift to chase the friction.

"Easy," I whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "Let me take care of you this morning. Let me show you how good it can feel when I'm not trying to fuck the fear out of both of us."

I reach down, wrap my hand around my cock, and guide the tip to her entrance. She's soaked. Ready. I push in inch by slow inch, watching her face the entire time. Her lips part on a soft moan; her eyes flutter half-closed as I stretch her open. When I'm buried to the hilt, I stay there, forehead pressed to hers, breathing her in.

"Feel that?" I murmur, rolling my hips in a lazy circle, grinding deep without pulling out. "That's where I belong. Right here. Inside you. Every morning, if you'll let me."

She wraps her legs around my waist, ankles locking at the small of my back. Her hands slide up my arms, over my shoulders, her fingertips tracing the scars and muscle like she's memorizing me, too. I start to move, long, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive spot inside her. No slamming. No bruising grip. Just steady, relentless pleasure that builds, slow and thick.

I kiss her through it. Soft at first, then deeper, tongues sliding lazy and wet. Every thrust matches the rhythm of the kiss until she's gasping into my mouth, nails digging lightly into my back.

"Gabe…" she breathes my name, and it sounds like heaven.

I slide one hand under her ass, tilting her hips so I hit that spot inside her on every stroke. My other hand cups her face, brushing her cheekbone with my thumb. "Look at me, baby."

Her eyes open, hazy with pleasure, and gold catches the morning light. Beautiful. Mine.

"I love you," I confess. No games. No hiding it behind dirty talk or possession, though both are still there underneath. "I've loved you since that fucking hallway. Since you smirked at a cage full of animals, like you belonged in the fire instead of running from it. I stalked you because I couldn't stay away. Sent you gifts because I needed to take care of you even when I couldn't touch you. And last night… fuck, Audra. Having you back in my bed, under me, taking everything I gave you? I'm never letting you go again. Not for grief. Not for guilt. Not for anything."

Her breath catches; her eyes shine with unshed tears. Not fear. Something deeper. She tightens around me, her inner walls flutter as the pleasure coils tighter.

"I love you," I repeat, thrusting a little deeper, a little slower, grinding against her clit on every downstroke. "Say you feel it too. Say you're mine, not because I took you, but because you chose to come back."

She sobs a soft moan, hips rolling up to meet me. "I feel it… God, Gabe, I don't know what I feel. But I need you. I'm yours."

That's all I need.

I keep the pace steady, fucking her with long, rolling strokes while I kiss her like I'm trying to pour every dark, obsessive part of me into her. When she comes, it's quiet and devastating. Her back arches, she lets out a broken cry against my mouth, and herwalls clamp down around me in rhythmic pulses that drag me right over the edge with her.

I bury myself deep and spill inside her, groaning her name like a vow. Hot pulses that mark her from the inside, claiming her in the only way that feels permanent enough.

We stay locked together afterward, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. I don't pull out. I never want to. I roll us to the side, keeping her leg hooked over my hip so I stay buried inside her warmth.

My hand strokes slow circles over her back.

"No running today," I murmur against her hair. "No hiding. We figure the rest out together. Your mom. The questions. The shit with Pete. All of it. But you stay right here. With me."

She nods against my chest, pressing a soft kiss over my heart. Her voice is quiet, still a little shaky. "Okay."

It's not everything. Not yet. But it's enough for this morning. I close my eyes, holding her tighter, and let the rare peace settle over both of us. She's mine now. Body. Heart. Soul. I'll burn the whole fucking city down before I let anyone take her from me again.

We stay tangled like that for a long time, my cock still half-hard and buried inside her, her leg hooked over my hip, our breathing slowly syncing. The city noise is a distant hum far below the penthouse. For once, the violence and calculations that usually fill my head are quiet. All I feel is her, warm and soft, breathing against my chest. She was made for this. To fit right here. For me. My fingers trace lazy patterns up and down her spine. She makes a small, contented sound and nuzzles closer, her nose brushing my collarbone. Fuck, I could get used to this. Dangerous thought for a man like me, but I don't push it away.

"So, what's new with you?" she asks, stroking my chest, something else I could easily get used to. "I feel like all we'vedone is talk about me and my fucked up life with my dead husband. What about you, Gabe?"

She takes my hand and kisses the bruises on my knuckles. "These are new."

I chuckle and slowly pull out of her. "Well, I've tried to keep busy so I didn't have to think about you every second of the day."

"Gabe, if you want to have a relationship with me, we need to be able to talk to each other. I need to know what's going on in your life as much as you want to know what's going on in mine."

Fuck. Nobody has wanted to hear what I have to say or fuckingfeelfor years. Not since Catarina died.