Page 127 of One More Chapter

“Don’t stop what, huh, boss? Don’t stop giving it to you this good?”

“Mmm…” Her head tosses on the pillow, and I can feel her pussy tightening, my own orgasm barreling down my spine. “Don’t stop fighting.Pleasedon’t stop fighting for me.”

My heart explodes. I drop my temple to hers, wind our fingers together, and squeeze.

“I won’t. I won’t baby, never.Never.”

I grit out the promise I will spend the rest of my life fighting to keep as we both come, hard and fast and never ending. I fall back to earth when I feel her fingers winding through my hair, grounding me.

We’re laying in my bed, tangled in the sheets, when our hoarse voices finally find purchase.

“I’m not mad at you—or mad at all, you know,” she says, finally breaking the silence. I hum, squeezing her to me. “I’msad. That I made you feel that way. That I didn’t have the courage to tell you sooner. Because I’mreally proudof my book, Anthony, but I’m not proud of the way I went about it.”

I nod, and let the needle and thread sew up my frail heart.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after,” I say, pressing my lips to her temple.

“You’ve already apologized for Florida?—”

“No. After your signing. I feel like I ruined that night for you.”

“Oh.”

“I’mso proudof you, Pen. I never got to tell you that.”

I weave my fingers through her hair, and just that simple motion soothes my soul. I thought I’d be able to hear her mind racing, but instead, the silence blankets us in an eerie calm.

“You didn’t ruin the night.”

Those words whispered against my chest allow me to finally exhale. After a few minutes in the quiet stillness, Pen props herself up, one hand pressed to my heart while the other scratches over my scalp. Her eyes give nothing away as she traces over the features of my face.

“What scares you the most?” she asks, fingers still tangled through my hair.

“That I’ll let you down,” I confess. “That I won’t be able to live up to the man you wrote that book about. You probably gave her the perfect happy ending, but what if mine doesn’t match up for you?”

“Anthony,” she gasps, tugging on my head until I look up at her. “He isnotyou.”

She’s shaking her head, but I know the truth. I know the words that Finn says on the page are ones that I have said in real life. Still, she cups my face and holds me like her touch will convince me.

“But he’ll always be there. A constant reminder that, even though we forgave each other, there will always be a roadmap back to all of our horrible choices.”

She lets go, sitting up against the headboard with my sheet clutched against her chest. I follow, sitting beside her, running a hand through my hair.

“When I publish the book, will this always be a wedge between us?”

I blink at her as that arrow pierces my heart. Sorrow drags my cheeks down like the weight of two anchors to the depths of the sea.

“I don’t want it to be.”

It’s the most honest answer I can give.

“How do we stop the hurdle from planting itself in the cement between us again?” she asks.

I take her hand, lace my fingers between hers, and squeeze.

I don’t know the answer to her question yet. But Idoknow that I’ll do whatever it takes to get us there.

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