Page 63 of It's Only Ever Been You

Her hand curls against my chest, and she nods, her eyes glistening. “Good,” she whispers. “Because I don’t think I’d survive if you did.”

The honesty in her words, the vulnerability, steals my breath. I press another kiss to her lips, softer this time, before shifting onto my side and pulling her with me. Her body molds against mine, and I tuck her under my chin, holding her close as the weight of the moment settles over us.

We stay tangled together, the world outside slipping away. It’s just us, just this, and for the first time in years, I feel a sense of belonging I haven’t known in a long time.

As we lie tangled together, her presence grounds me and I let my fingers trace idle patterns along her spine. The quiet intimacy between us feels heavier, richer than the fiery urgency from earlier. Her fingers graze my chest, leaving a path of warmth in their wake, sending a shiver through me. I tilt my head down to catch her gaze, and the way she looks at me—soft, unguarded, hers—nearly undoes me all over again.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” I murmur, my voice rougher than Iintend. “You’ve been in my head and under my skin, since the day I met you. And seeing you again—it’s like nothing else even exists, Emma.”

Her lips part slightly, her brows drawing together as if my words are too much. But then she smiles, faint and radiant, and it’s like the room gets a little brighter. “It goes both ways,” she whispers, her fingers stilling against my skin. “You’ve been in my head for years, Ethan. And my heart.”

The weight of her admission sits heavy between us, not unwelcome but profound. I slide my hand to cup her jaw, my thumb brushing along her cheek. “Good,” I say softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Because you’re not getting rid of me now.”

Her laugh is quiet, more of an exhale, and she nuzzles closer, her body fitting against mine like she belongs there. And she does. She always has.

Her lips press against the base of my neck, soft and lingering, and I can’t help the low sound that escapes me. “You keep doing that,” I warn, my voice dark with playful intent, “and I’m not going to be able to keep things slow.”

Her smile is wicked as she pulls back to meet my eyes. “Who said I want slow?”

Damn. If I thought I couldn’t want her more, she’s just proven me wrong. In one fluid motion, I roll us over, pinning her beneath me as my grin turns wolfish. “Careful what you wish for, baby,”I growl, my lips brushing over hers. “Because I’ve got years of making up to do.”

Her laugh turns into a gasp as I kiss her again, deep and unrelenting. The heat between us reignites, and I know one thing for sure—neither of us is getting any sleep tonight.

Chapter Twenty Two

The Morning After

Emma

Sunlight streams through the curtains as echoes from the night before run through my mind. I wake up wrapped in warmth—Ethan’s arm draped over my waist, his steady breathing brushing against my neck. Everything about this moment feels perfect, yet my chest tightens with a familiar blend of elation and fear. Last night was everything I’d dreamed of, but now, in the light of day, I can’t stop wondering—what happens next?

The steady rhythm of Ethan’s breathing is a lullaby I didn’t know I needed. I lay there for a few moments longer, pretending my worries don't exist, letting myself believe this is just a regular morning with him—no years of heartache or unanswered questions between us.

But the heaviness of what happened between us settles in, and I feel my chest tighten. What if this is fleeting? A momentary lapse before he changes his mind and he misses his life without me?

Ethan stirs behind me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer. “Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, sending a shiver down my spine.

I turn to face him, my lips curving into a soft smile despite the unease bubbling in my chest. “Morning.”

His eyes crinkle as he grins lazily, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You always wake up this cute, or is this just for me?”

I laugh lightly, swatting at his chest. The sound feels hollow to my ears, but Ethan doesn’t seem to notice.

“Cute and feisty,” he teases, propping himself up on one elbow. “I could get used to this.”

I try to match his playful tone, but my laugh comes out weaker than I intend. My fingers toy with the edge of the sheet, my thoughts spiraling faster than I can rein them in.

His words send a flutter through my chest, but they’re quickly drowned out by uncertainty. Before I can overthink, Ethan leans down, kissing me with a gentleness that catches me off guard.

When he pulls away, a flicker of hesitation crosses his face before he speaks. “I need to step out for a bit. Handle something.”

The pang of disappointment comes fast and sharp. “What kind of something?”

“Nothing major,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Just something I need to take care of. I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

His words are casual and he doesn't elaborate, but something about the way he avoids my gaze leaves me uneasy.

I don’t push. Instead, I force a smile and nod. “Okay.”

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