Page 131 of Without a Trace
And my heart did that thing—it clenched and fluttered and asked the question I didn’t want to face. Can I really keep them both?
I didn’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But I knew this—this moment—was mine.
Alden shifted behind me, arm pulling tighter around my waist. Trace mumbled something low and half-asleep, tucking me closer. And I just laid there, pinned between the only two men I’d ever let see the whole, unfiltered, un-fucking-pretty version of me.
And they still wanted me.
I traced a line across Alden’s wrist. Pressed my heel against traces shin. Little anchors. Quiet proof.
They’ve always been mine.
And I’d always been theirs—even when I was too afraid to choose.
Maybe I never could.
The knot in my chest loosened. Not gone. But quieter.
I didn’t know how this ended. Didn’t know what came next or how badly we’d break this if we tried to keep it.
But for right now?
I let it be simple.
I let myself be held.
Trace
She was awake. I felt it in the shift of her weight, the way her cheek pressed harder against my chest—seeking something steady.
She could fucking have it.
I’d let her anchor herself in me until I shattered from it.
My hand stayed right where it’d landed—over her ribs, just beneath her breasts. I could feel the steady beat of her heart. Still fast. Fucking real.
I didn’t sleep much. Not after what happened. Too much noise in my head.
She was soft between us, hair still damp against my collarbone, body warm.
Alden’s breathing was slow and even behind her. Calm. Always fucking calm. Like any of this made sense.
But it didn’t.
Nothing about her ever has.
It didn’t make sense how I could still want her like this. How I could feel her breath on my collarbone and ache with the fuckingneed to keep her. Claim her. Tear the rest of the world apart if it ever tried to take her from me.
It didn’t make sense how I could let him touch her too.
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve let go the second she said my name like that—soft, aching, wrecked. But I couldn’t. Not with her mouth on mine, not with her moaning under him, not when I saw her eyes and knew she fucking meant it.
She’s mine in ways no one's ever been.
And that’s what kills me.
Because I watched his hands on her. Watched her fall into him. Heard her cry my name while he fucked her.
