Page 55 of Brazen Being It

I nod, swallowing hard against the sudden ache in my throat. “We were playing house,” I whisper. “Now we’re living it.”

His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time. Hungrier, but still careful. Still patient. His weight settles over me, grounding me, wrapping me in warmth and something bigger than either of us.

When we come together, it’s not frantic. It’s not rushed. It’s slow, like the tide rolling in. Soft kisses between every movement, whispers that fall like petals against skin. I feel like I’m unraveling and becoming something new, all at once.

He presses his forehead to mine, eyes locked on my own as our bodies move together, and I see everything in that look. Every guarded laugh. Every moment he let me in when he didn’t have to. Every time I reached for his hand in public and he laced our fingers like he meant it—even when we said we didn’t.

I cup his face as we move, holding his gaze, not letting him look away. “I love you,” I say, the words breaking free before I can stop them.

He stills for a second, breath catching. Then he smiles—soft, real, like sunlight after a storm. “I’ve been loving you since before I watched you bend over to pick up a coin and I thought, damn that is a lucky penny.”

His lips brush my shoulder, then my collarbone. Everything building inside me again. I can’t get enough of him. He’s shaking slightly, but not from fear. From the intensity of it. Of us. From letting go of the act, the lie, the distance we kept like armor.

“I used to tell myself it was just convenient,” I murmur against his skin. “That I didn’t need it to be real.”

“Me too,” he replies, breath warm against my chest. “But you made it real anyway.”

I wrap my arms around him tighter, anchoring him to me. “Don’t let it go. Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t,” he vows, and I feel it in the way his hands cradle me, in the way our bodies sync like they’ve always known how. “Not ever.”

The rhythm between us builds slowly, as if the world has quieted just to let us have this. I feel every heartbeat, every inhale, every soft gasp like it’s part of a song only we can hear. It’s not just making love—it’s becoming one. Like every wall we built has finally crumbled, and what’s left is only truth. Only us.

He kisses me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, and I hold him like I never want to let go.

When the orgasm comes, it’s quiet, intense, a wave that overtakes us both with a trembling tenderness. I cry out his name, not from pain or pleasure alone, but from something deeper. Something I can’t put into words.

He follows with a whisper of my name against my lips, and in that moment, I swear the world shifts.

We collapse into each other, tangled and breathless. My skin hums. My heart is wide open. For a while, we just lay together. No words. Just the sound of our breathing slowing, syncing again like the rhythm hasn’t left us. His fingers trace circles on my back, grounding me. Loving me.

“Is it strange,” he murmurs, “that I feel more married to you than the moment I muttered it to my family even though I had fully committed to the claim?”

I smile into his neck. “No. It makes perfect sense.”

He kisses the top of my head, then pulls the blankets over us, wrapping us in warmth. “Cambria,” he whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I want to make the lie a truth.”

“You don’t have to,” I promise, worried that he feels pressured to marry me all of a sudden. “I’m with you no matter how it’s defined.”

He exhales slowly, like the last of his fears just slipped out with that breath. I rest my hand over his heart, feeling it beat strong and steady beneath my palm.

“You’re mine,” I say, not possessively, but with awe. With gratitude.

“And you’re mine,” he answers, pulling me closer. “For real this time.”

The moonlight fades a little, replaced by the softer glow of dawn sneaking in through the window. The beginning of something new. And for the first time, our story isn’t one we’re performing. It’s one we’re living and keeping forever.

Afterward, we lie there tangled in the sheets. He traces lazy lines across my spine, and I listen to the steady beat of his heart. I can feel my world shifting, piece by piece, and for once I’m not fighting it. I'm letting it happen.

“You think they’ll ever see me the way you do?” I ask quietly.

“The club?”

I nod against him.

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