Her forehead presses against mine.
“Then do it,” she says.
That’s it. That’s all I need.
My mouth drops to her neck, and I feel her shiver. She’s so soft under me, so open. Her body tenses with anticipation, breath catching, hands digging into my shoulders.
And then I bite.
She gasps—high and wrecked and gorgeous—and I feel everythingsnapinto place. The bond flares, threading through me immediately, all heat and rightness andfinally. I taste her pulse beneath my tongue, feel her body clench tight around me, feel her whole self come undone in my arms.
I’m inside her. Marking her.Claimingher.
And I’ve never felt anything this real.
“Mine,” I growl, licking over the mark as her hips jerk against mine. “You’re mine now.”
She moans my name—broken and beautiful—and I let myself fall with her. She rides me through it, her orgasm building then crashing. Her hips jerk against mine, hard and fast and uncoordinated—
And I let go.
I thrust up as deep as I can one last time as my knot begins to swell. She takes it all, every last inch of me. My knot swells, locking us together, sealing the moment in something deeper than instinct. I press deeper, pull her tighter, and let go completely.
I come hard, body bowed into hers, everything I am spilling into everything she is.
And sheletsme.
We collapse back into her bed in a messy tangle of limbs and sheets and sweat, still knotted, still shaking. She’s curled into my chest, her cheek pressed over my heart like she belongs there.
I stroke her back in slow, even passes, grounding us both. Her scent is everywhere now—in the bed, in my lungs, in the blood still buzzing through me from the bond.
I’ve never felt so full. Or so still. Or socomplete.
She hums against my skin, and through the new thread between us, I feel her happiness hit me like the softest wave. Warmth. Contentment. That delicious, post-storm kind of peace. And underneath it all—relief. Safety.
She’shappy; and it kind of knocks me sideways, how much that matters. How much itmeans.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
She tilts her face up and smiles against my chest. “You finally stopped stress baking.”
I laugh, exhausted and and elated and completely gone for her. I press a kiss into her hair, holding her tighter.
“For you?” I murmur. “I’d give it all up. Every muffin. Every traybake. Every banana bread known to man.”
She giggles softly, and as her fingers find mine under the sheets, I swear to every god in existence—this is it. This is what it feels like to belong.
Knotted together. Bonded.
Home.
She’s mine, now; and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows I’m hers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Frankie