Page 34 of Manic

I drop my hands to her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, you did," I admit, unable to sugarcoat it. "I'm frustrated as hell, Meghan. Pissed that I missed out on so many years with my daughter,"

I pause, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. "But I'd go through all this shit again to have another chance with her... with you. If that's what this is."

A small, watery laugh escapes her lips, catching us both by surprise. "I didn't even think it was a possibility," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, despite the heaviness of the moment. "It is," I assure her, my grip on her shoulders tightening slightly. "I'm gonna keep our family together, Meghan. We'll navigate this mess together, you hear me?"

She nods, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.

"But we can talk about any other intense shit later," I add, suddenly aware of how emotionally drained we both are. "Right now, I just want to hold you and know you're really here."

I pull Meghan against me, wrapping my arms around her so tightly it's like I'm afraid she'll vanish if I let go.

Her body molds to mine, familiar yet new, and I inhale deeply, drinking in the scent of her hair.

My lips find the side of her neck, and I place a soft kiss there, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch.

"Gods, I've missed you," I murmur against her skin.

Meghan's hands slide up my back, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

"Tor," she breathes, my name a prayer on her lips.

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes—those light sage green eyes that have haunted my dreams for years.

Without thinking, I capture her lips with mine, pouring years of longing and regret into the kiss.

It starts soft, almost tentative, but quickly ignites into something more urgent, more passionate.

My hands tangle in her ashy blonde hair as I deepen the kiss, and I feel her respond with as much need as me.

It's like no time has passed at all, like we're those same kids who fell in love all those years ago.

"Is this okay?" I manage to ask between kisses, not wanting to push too far too fast.

Meghan nods, her breath coming in short gasps. "More than okay," she assures me, her hands already working at sliding off my cut.

I don't need any more encouragement.

My fingers find the hem of her top, and in one swift motion, I pull it over her head.

She does the same with my shirt, and soon, we're a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing.

As I lay her down on the couch, I can't help but marvel at how beautiful she is. "You're even more gorgeous than I remember," I tell her, my voice husky with desire.

Meghan's cheeks flush, and for a moment, I see a flash of the shy girl she used to be. "You're not so bad yourself," she quips, her hands tracing the tattoos on my chest.

I lean down to kiss her again, slower this time, savoring every moment.

When I finally enter her, it's like coming home after a long, hard journey.

We move together, finding our rhythm easily, as if we'd never been apart.

It's rough and passionate, years of pent-up emotion pouring out in every touch, every kiss, every thrust.

But underneath the urgency, there's a tenderness that takes my breath away.

Meghan's fingers find mine, lacing them together as I continue to move within her.

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