Page 21 of Puck Me at Midnight

His lips return to mine in a kiss that’s deeper and more urgent, and I can feel the way his body responds to mine. His hands are everywhere, roaming over my skin, as if trying to memorize every inch of me.

I can’t get close enough to him, I pull him toward me, my hands running down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. He groans into the kiss, a low, hungry sound, and it sends a thrill of desire through me.

With one swift motion, he lifts me again, carrying me into the bedroom, his lips never leaving mine, our bodies pressed together as if we’ve been waiting for this moment our whole lives.

Spike’s hands are everywhere, his touch igniting a fire inside me I didn’t know I could feel. He pulls me closer, his lips trailing down my neck, kissing me with a hunger that matches my own. I arch into him, needing more, feeling the urgency in every movement.

“Spike,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath as I slide my hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips.

He lifts me easily, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him. His body is solid, pressing into mine, and I feel the undeniable evidence of his desire for me. It sends a rush of heat through my body, and I kiss him harder, more desperately, trying to convey everything I’ve been holding back.

His lips move from mine, trailing down to my collarbone, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me as he touches me like no one ever has. He’s gentle yet assertive, his touch both tender and desperate, as if he’s trying to hold onto something precious.

“I need you, Emma,” he breathes, his voice rough, filled with need. “You have no idea how much I need you.”

I respond without thinking, pulling his lips back to mine, my hands running down his torso, eager to feel all of him. I want him as much as he wants me. There’s no hesitation anymore, no holding back. Everything between us is raw and real, stripped of any pretense. Just us—together.

His hands are at the waistband of my jeans, pulling them down as I help him, every move synchronized with the same growing urgency. His lips never leave mine, and when I finally feel the warmth of his skin against mine, a wave of pleasure washes over me, so overwhelming that it takes my breath away.

Spike’s hands move to my back, unfastening my bra with practiced ease, and I let it fall to the floor, feeling completely exposed but utterly safe in his arms. He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes dark with desire but filled with tenderness too, and I feel something shift inside me. It’s as though he’s seeing me in a way no one ever has—and I’m seeing him too, not just his body but his soul.

With a single, fluid motion, he lifts me again, and this time, we make our way to the bed. Spike’s lips return to mine, his touch more urgent now, as though he can’t get enough of me.The world outside of us fades completely. All that matters is this moment, this connection, this feeling of being fully and completely with him.

His touch is a mix of urgency and reverence, as though he’s both worshipping and claiming me. His hands, his lips, his body—they make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. And when he enters me, it’s not just a physical act; it’s a declaration of everything we’ve shared, everything we’re building.

The way he moves, the way he kisses me—it’s all with a purpose, a purpose that’s all about us, about the love and the trust we’ve cultivated between us. Every thrust, every caress, brings us closer, and I lose myself in the sensation, in the overwhelming need to be with him completely.

“Emma…” he groans, his voice thick with desire, and it’s like hearing my name in his mouth makes everything more real. More intense. “I love you.”

The words hit me like a wave, crashing over me, and in that moment, I know that this isn’t just about sex. It’s about us. About how much we’ve come to mean to each other. About how we’ve built something strong and unbreakable, something that’s ours and no one else’s. This is about our future.

“I love you too,” I gasp, my hands gripping the sheets as his body moves against mine, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

We come together in a breathless, overwhelming release, both of us consumed by the intensity of it all. I cling to him as if he’s the only thing holding me together, and for a moment, nothing else exists but the two of us, intertwined in the most intimate way possible.

Spike collapses next to me, both of us breathing heavily, our bodies still tangled together. His hand finds mine, squeezing it gently. “I don’t ever want to let you go, Emma,” he says, his voice raw but filled with warmth.

I turn my head to look at him, my heart full, my soul content. “You don’t have to,” I whisper, resting my head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath me.

This is everything. It’s love, trust, and the promise of a future together. And no matter what happens, I know that we’ll face it—together.

Epilogue One

Valentine’s Day – 1 Year Later

Spike

Valentine’s Day feels different this year. The house is filled with a quiet hum of anticipation, not just from the boys but from me, too. I glance at the clock—still, plenty of time to get everything ready. Sam and Charlie are in the living room, giggling as they work on their handmade Valentine cards for Emma. It’s hard to believe it’s been over a year since she first came into our lives. So much has changed and for the better.

“Dad!” Sam calls, waving a crayon-streaked card in the air. “Does this look okay?”

I step over, kneeling beside him to examine the card. It’s a little lopsided, the hearts drawn with the unsteady hand of a six-year-old, but it’s perfect.

“It’s awesome, buddy,” I tell him, ruffling his hair. “Emma’s going to love it.”

Charlie walks over, his chubby fingers clutching his own card. He’s four now, but sometimes he still clings to me like he did when he was smaller. “Mine, too?”

“Let me see.” I take the card and smile at the rows of stick figures he’s drawn. Four of them. All holding hands.

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