Page 33 of Our Bay Will Come

When I shatter this time, it's even more intense than before. I cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me, my body clenching rhythmically around him.

"Fuck, Prue, I'm—" He doesn't finish, just groans deep in his chest as he follows me over the edge, pulsing inside me.

We collapse together onto the mattress, a tangle of sweaty limbs and ragged breathing. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat gradually slow.

"So," I say when I can finally form words again, "baby steps, huh?"

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Maybe not so baby after all."

I prop myself up to look at him, suddenly serious. "I meant what I said before. No steps back. I'm not good at this—relationships, vulnerability, all of it—but I want to try. With you."

Fox tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his expression tender. "I'm not asking for everything all at once, Prue. Just for you to let me in, bit by bit."

"I think I already have," I whisper, surprising myself with the admission.

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Let’s sleep in and then I’ll make you mean breakfast."

"Is that all you make that's mean?" I tease, snuggling against him.

"Stick around and find out," he mutter, his hand trailing lazily down my spine.

As I drift toward sleep in his arms, I realize I've never felt so simultaneously terrified and safe. Whatever happens next, there's no denying the truth anymore: Fox Carmichael has firmly planted himself in my heart, and I have no intention of uprooting him.

As the night deepens around us, I realize I'm not afraid anymore. Whatever this is between us—this fragile, beautiful beginning—it's worth the risk.

CHAPTER TWELVE

PRUE

Iwake to sunlight streaming through Fox's curtains and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. For a moment, I lie there, savoring the pleasant ache in my muscles, the rumpled sheets still warm from our bodies.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand—a text from Cilla asking if I'm free for lunch. I quickly reply that I'll meet her at 1:00, then slip out of bed, borrowing one of Fox's T-shirts that falls to mid-thigh.

When I pad into the kitchen, Fox is at the stove, shirtless in his jeans, flipping what looks like the most perfect blueberry waffles I've ever seen.

"Morning," I say, wrapping my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against his warm back.

"Morning, beautiful." He turns, spatula in hand, to kiss my forehead. "Sleep okay?"

"Better than okay." I steal a blueberry from the bowl beside him, popping it into my mouth. "I didn't know you could cook so well. First lasagna and now, blueberry waffles from scratch."

"Fourth generation baker's son, remember? Some things are in the blood." He slides a plate toward me, stacked withwaffles. "Fair warning: my waffles have been known to cause spontaneous marriage proposals."

I nearly choke on my coffee. "Is that right?"

His eyes crinkle with amusement. "Just stating facts. Consider yourself warned."

After breakfast, I head to the shower and change before meeting Cilla. As I drive through Cedar Bay's quaint streets, I'm struck by how the town seems different somehow—warmer, more inviting. Or maybe I'm the one who's different––transformed.

I find Cilla waiting at The Lighthouse Café, her laptop open and papers spread across the table. She's so engrossed that she doesn't notice me until I'm beside her.

"Earth to dissertation girl," I say, waving a hand in front of her face.

She jumps, then breaks into a grin. "Prue! Sorry, I was finishing something." She closes her laptop and studies my face. "You look... different. Good different."

"Do I?" I slide into the chair across her, hoping my cheeks aren't as flushed as they feel.

"Hmm." She narrows her eyes. "Either you won the lottery, or Fox has been showing you a good time."

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