Page 92 of Finders Keepers

“Come for me, Bailey,” he pleads, his voice rough with need. “I need you to come first.”

His words are all it takes to push me over the edge. My back arches, my nails still digging into his shoulders as I cry out his name. My body pulses around him, gripping his length as he groans my name like a mantra.

“Bailey,” he pants, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. “Oh God, Bailey.”

And then he’s coming, his body shuddering as he buries himself deep, a broken sound ripping from his throat. His hands find mine, lacing our fingers together like he needs the anchor as the pleasure crashes over him.

We stay like that for several long moments, our chests heaving as we catch our breath. Finally, he pulls out of me and tugs me against his side, discarding the condom, his arm wrapping around my waist. I turn to face him instead, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

“Bailey,” he murmurs. His hand cups my cheek. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I press my forehead against his chest, the words sticking in my throat. I’m not good at this, at accepting kindness or affection. My default is to deflect, to laugh it off, but with Gavin, I don’t want to. I want to let myself feel it, to believe it, even if it’s just for tonight.

“No, I’m not,” I whisper. “But when you say it like that, I almost believe it.”

He lifts my chin and he kisses me again, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. “You will,” he says against my mouth. “One day, you’ll see yourself the way I see you.”

The knot in my chest tightens. Part of me wants to believe him, but the other part, the part that’s been beaten down for so long, is screaming that this is too good to be true.

When I don’t respond, he pulls back slightly, his eyes searching my face.

“Hey,” he says, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Talk to me.”

I swallow hard, struggling to put my thoughts into words. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this. If I can let myself be happy.”

His expression softens, and he shifts beside me, warmth radiates from his skin, grounding me.

“You deserve to be happy, Bailey,” he says, his voice firm. “You’ve been through hell, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get to have this. To have me, if that’s what you want.”

My chest tightens. “It’s not that simple,” I manage to say.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he counters. “You’re allowed to take it one moment at a time. No pressure, no expectations. Just… you and me.”

He says it so easily, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. But for me, it feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown. I’ve spent so long living in survival mode, constantly looking over my shoulder. Letting my guard down feels like a death sentence.

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can trust myself to make the right choices.”

His hand tightens around mine. “You don’t have to trust yourself right now,” he says, his voice steady. “Just trust me. I’ve got you, even when you can’t carry it all yourself.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprises me. He’s laying himself bare, and suddenly, it hits me just how much he’s risking here, too. This isn’t just about me.

I nod slowly, my throat too tight to speak. He pulls me closer, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says softly, his fingers stroking my hair. “Together.”

The word lingers in the air, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself imagine what that might look like. A life where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder, where I can let someone in without fear.

“Gavin,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He kisses the top of my head, his lips warm against my skin. “Always.”

We lie there in silence for a while, then a loud bark grabs our attention.

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest, and the sound pulls a smile from me. “Poor Nugget.” I reluctantly pull away from his warmth. “I guess we should go get him.”

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