Page 97 of Glass Rose
“Show me who you belong to, Sofia.”
The orgasm washes through me with such intensity, far beyond the first, that I arch off the wall, my head thrown back despite his earlier command to maintain eye contact.
He grabs my chin, forcing my face back to his. “Eyes.”Thrust.“On.”Thrust.“Me.”Thrust.
I try, letting him see the aftershocks coursing through my body, the vulnerability, the complete surrender.
He grits his teeth, a guttural sound escaping him as he pounds into me one final time. His cock pulses inside me, filling the condom as his entire bodygoes rigid.
“Fuck.” Gavin’s lips capture mine, urgent and yearning, as if he’s still convincing himself I’m alive. His tongue invades, claiming every inch. “You’re perfect.”
“Thank you.”
His smile is crooked. “For the orgasms?”
“For finding me. For not giving up.”
“I’ve never wanted to protect anyone the way I want to protect you.”
There’s so much he’s not saying, but I hear it anyway. The unspoken admission hangs between us, more intimate than what we’ve just done.
In this apocalypse, where we’ve lost everything—civilization, safety, normalcy—I’ve found something I didn’t have since I moved out from my parents.
Home.
Not a building or a place, but this feeling. This man. This unexpected peace amid chaos.
EPILOGUE
GAVIN
Soft footsteps approach our bed, familiar enough that my body doesn’t tense like it used to. Six months of waking up next to Sofia has rewired parts of my brain I thought were permanently fucked, and the compound has transformed in ways I never expected.
What started as a defensive position for my team has grown into a small settlement. Three new cabins along the shore. A communal kitchen. Gardens that actually produce enough to supplement our hunting and scavenging. Ten new people who we’ve rescued or who’ve found us, including two kids.
The mattress dips slightly as she sits, and I crack open an eye to find her backlit by sunlight streaming through our bedroom window, hair loose around her shoulders, and a wooden tray balanced on her lap.
“Morning, killer.” Her voice carries that playful lilt I’ve come to crave. “Thought you might want to celebrate.”
I push myself up against the headboard, sheets pooling around my waist. “Celebrate what?”
“Happy six-month anniversary of not dying.” Sofia’s smile widens as she carefully places the tray between us.
On it sits a misshapen pizza covered in bubbling cheese and chunks of what looks like chili, steam rising in lazy curls. The dark circles that haunted her eyes for months after our escape have faded. She was scared Green would come after us. But he didn’t.
“You made pizza for breakfast?” I reach for a slice, the cheese stretching in long, gooey strands. “With chili?”
“Your favorite.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I asked Ethan to search for seeds, and he found some. It took some tries, but… How is it?”
The first bite hits my tongue with an explosion of heat and flavor. Homemade dough, tangy sauce, and the perfect level of spice. “Holy fuck, this is good.”
She takes a much smaller piece for herself. “I had Ellie help with the dough. I’m still shit at—” Her eyes immediately water, and she coughs, grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand.
“Too spicy?”
She waves her hand in front of her mouth, cheeks flushed. “How do you eat this? It’s like licking the surface of the sun.”
“Weak.” I finish my piece, making a show of my enjoyment. “More for me.”
