Page 57 of Embers in Autumn
“God, yes,” she sobbed. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”
I laughed against her neck, dark and filthy. “You think I could stop? Not when you’re squeezing me like this. You’re fucking addicted to me already, aren’t you?”
“Yes—Dean, oh my God—”
Her walls clamped down, her whole body seizing as she shattered again, crying out loud enough I was glad no one could hear us. I fucked her through it, relentless, chasing my ownrelease.
The sight of her, bent over, shaking, dripping down my cock, pushed me over the edge. With a curse, I thrust deep one last time and came hard, filling her, groaning her name into her hair as my body shook.
For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing, the creak of the bed under us. I held her tight against me, still buried inside her, kissing the sweat-damp skin of her shoulder.
“Amber,” I murmured, voice hoarse, “I told you. You’re never going to forget.”
She turned her head just enough to meet my eyes, flushed and smiling faintly through the haze. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to.”
Amber shifted under me, her breath still ragged, her skin damp with sweat. I felt her body tense like she was about to move away, about to get up, maybe even grab her things and leave.
The thought hit me like a punch to the chest.
Before she could take a step, I cupped her face and kissed her. Not rough this time, not claiming, but soft. Slow. A kiss that asked instead of demanded.
She melted against me, lips trembling, her hands sliding to my chest.
When I pulled back, I kept my forehead pressed to hers, my voice low and raw. “Stay the night, Amber. Fucking stay.”
Her eyes widened, hazel flecked with something I couldn’t quite name. Fear, maybe. Doubt. That instinct to run before it gets too real. But beneath all of that, I saw the same thing I felt—a pull neither of us could fight anymore.
She hesitated, breath catching, and for a second I thought she’d still walk. Then she exhaled, slow, and nodded. “Okay.”
Relief hit me so hard I kissed her again, deeper this time,pouring everything into it. I held her close, my hand tangling in her hair, her soft sigh vibrating against my lips.
When we finally broke apart, I pulled the blanket over her, tucking her against my chest. My pulse was still racing, but not from the sex—not anymore. It was from the weight of her body in my arms, the simple fact that she was still here.
Amber. In my bed. Choosing to stay.
I pressed a kiss to her temple, my arms tightening around her. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I don’t want to wake up without you.”
And for the first time in years, I fell asleep with more than exhaustion in my bones.
CHAPTER 17
Amber
Sunlight stretched across the bedroom in golden stripes, slipping past the curtains to paint the walls. I stirred beneath the blanket, my body aching in ways that felt both tender and satisfying. Every muscle was tired, yet I’d slept deeper than I had in months. Maybe years.
Dean’s arm was draped over my waist, heavy and warm, his chest rising steady against my back. I lay still for a moment, breathing him in—the faint scent of soap and smoke clinging to his skin—and let myself soak in the strange comfort of it.
But then the thoughts crept in.
I liked him. God, I more than liked him. He was thoughtful, romantic in a way that didn’t feel forced, protective without being suffocating. He cared. He showed it, not just in the big gestures but in the quiet things—bringing me coffee, changing the damn battery in my smoke detector, remembering the way I take my wine.
And yet.
So did Mark, in the beginning.
The memory came uninvited, sharp as glass. Mark had been attentive once. Charming, considerate. He’d made me laugh, held me when I cried, promised me the world. Before the criticisms, before the cold silences and cruel words, before I found out he was giving his tenderness to someone else.
My stomach twisted. I closed my eyes, pressing my lips together, hating that my past still bled into this moment. That I couldn’t just… let myself be happy.
