Listen to Tonight by John Legend and Ludacris

I returned late from the diner, the weight of another long shift pressing against my shoulders. The evening had been tiring, but my thoughts drifted as I walked through the familiar halls of the Sanchester estate, my last week here hanging in the air like a fog I couldn't shake. Part of me felt like I was ready to go, to leave behind the weight of this life. 

On instinct, my feet took me to the twins' door. I opened it, just a crack, and peeked inside. Kayden was nestled in his crib, soft breaths rising and falling in peaceful slumber. A sigh of relief escaped me, my heart easing at the sight of him. But then I turned to Kayla's crib.

It was empty.

Panic surged through me, sharp and cold, like a bolt of lightning striking straight through my chest. I rushed out of the room, the fear tightening my throat as my mind scrambled to figure out where she could be. 

I moved quickly, almost running, as I made my way down the hallway to Tristan's room. My mind raced with questions, the fear turning into something desperate. Without thinking, I pushed open the door, the sound of it creaking loudly in the quiet night.

And there she was.

Kayla was curled up against Tristan, nestled comfortably against his side. Her tiny body seemed so small next to him, but there was a sense of peace in her expression. Her wide eyes were locked on the TV, watching Bluey intently, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

Tristan, on the other hand, had his gaze trained on the screen, but the moment he noticed me, his eyes flickered to mine—warm, steady, and something else I couldn't quite place. His lips pulled into a soft, unbothered smile as he leaned back into the cushions, stroking Kayla's hair gently. It was a simple, intimate gesture, but it struck something deep in me.

"Cassie, you're back," he said, his voice low, calm. There was no trace of awkwardness in his tone, no surprise, just an easygoing familiarity.

I could feel my heart beat a little faster, my breath coming a little more shallow. A rush of guilt washed over me for jumping to conclusions.

I shook it off quickly, trying to keep my voice steady as I leaned against the doorframe. "I went in their room and didn't find her in her crib, so I got worried."

Tristan didn't seem concerned at all, his gaze softening as he looked down at Kayla, who was still smiling at him. "She wouldn't fall asleep, so I brought her here to keep me company." He didn't seem to mind the interruption, his fingers gently combing through her hair as she gazed up at him with that innocent trust only a child could have.

I hesitated for a moment, staring at the scene before me, caught between the overwhelming warmth of the moment and the need to break the spell that had settled between us.

"Umm... I'll just go take a shower," I said, my voice quieter than I intended, suddenly self-conscious of the dress I still wore from my shift. "I stink."

As I turned to go, I felt his eyes on me—heavy, lingering, a heat that I wasn't prepared for. The way his gaze traced the exposed skin of my thighs made something stir in my chest. I quickly shut the door behind me, the soft click of it a harsh contrast to the racing pulse in my ears. 

I undressed quickly and stepped into the bathroom, the cool air against my skin a welcome relief after the long shift. The smell of fried food and grease still clung to my hair—fish, maybe?—from the diner.  I spent a few extra minutes washing my hair, trying to rid it of the scent, massaging the shampoo in with force, as though scrubbing it away could also erase the weight of the day. After a long rinse, I towel-dried my hair, slipping into the floral two-piece lounge set, the fabric soft against my skin. The shorts were loose and comfortable, and the cropped top made me feel somehow at ease—like I had control, even if just for tonight.

I walked back toward Tristan's room, my mind still reeling from the emotions swirling inside me. It felt strange to have such a profound connection to a place I was about to leave, to the people I was supposed to say goodbye to. My footsteps slowed as I reached his door, curiosity tugging me toward the unexpected.

And then I opened the door.

The sight in front of me almost stopped my heart.

Tristan was asleep on the bed, stretched out in a way that somehow made the space feel smaller and more intimate. Kayla was tucked into his side, her little body curled against him like she belonged there. His arm was around her, holding her protectively, and in his hand, he was clutching one of her dolls. The scene was so pure, so perfect, it took my breath away.

I couldn't resist. I tiptoed closer, reaching for my phone, snapping a quick picture before I could even fully register the tenderness of the moment. The way they both slept with their lips slightly parted, the same serene expression on their faces—it was almost eerie how alike they looked in that moment. The way their breath seemed to sync in the quiet of the room.

It took everything in me to pull my gaze away, to remind myself to breathe.

I moved carefully, quietly, and gently lifted Kayla out of his arms. She stirred a little, the soft flutter of her eyelids making me pause, but she didn't fully wake. As I cradled her against my shoulder, Tristan's eyes fluttered open, his voice thick with sleep.

"Just taking her back to her crib," I murmured softly, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to ignore how deeply my heart was pounding in my chest.

"Okay," he responded, his voice low and groggy, thick with the remnants of slumber. Something about the way he said it—the tenderness laced with sleep—stirred something in me, a warmth I hadn't expected.

I quietly turned to leave, but Tristan shifted, already pushing himself up.

"I got it," I said quickly, waving my hand as though I could keep him from getting up. "You don't have to—go back to sleep."

"It's fine, Cassie," he muttered, his voice still rough with sleep. He stood up slowly, a soft smile curling at the edges of his lips, the kind of smile that was more for himself than for anyone else. He grabbed the doll from the bed, and then Kayla's small blanket, draping it carefully over his arm as he followed me.

I couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed under his black T-shirt as he stretched. The way his body moved so effortlessly, each motion smooth and graceful in a way that only seemed natural to him. My heart beat faster, but I quickly looked away, forcing myself to focus.

"Did you eat something?" His voice was still heavy, his tall form standing just behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his presence.

"I work in a diner, Tristan," I shot back, the sarcasm slipping out before I could stop it. But the truth was, I was so tired, so drained from the day that I didn't have the energy to hide it.

He didn't respond, and the silence between us was comfortable, like the unspoken words between us didn't need to be said out loud.

We reached the twins' room, and together, we moved quietly, the faintest sounds of our movements the only noise in the otherwise still house. I gently placed Kayla back into her crib, watching as Tristan tucked the blanket around her, his hands moving with a tenderness that made something catch in my throat. He leaned down, his lips brushing her neck in a soft kiss.

"Goodnight, Princess," he whispered.

I leaned down too, my fingers brushing her soft hair before I pressed my lips to her head. "Goodnight, sweet girl," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

We stepped out of the twins' room, the soft click of the door closing behind us a quiet punctuation to the moment. A silence lingered between us, thick and heavy, like something unsaid hovered in the air, waiting for its turn. I knew I should walk away, retreat to my room, let the cool comfort of solitude wrap around me like a blanket. But my feet remained planted in place, as though they were unwilling to leave.

Tristan stood beside me, just a few inches away, his tall frame unmoving. He had his arms folded across his chest, his gaze focused ahead, but I could feel the weight of him beside me, the tension in the air pulling at my skin. The hallway felt colder now, the soft hum of silence amplifying the chill that crept over my exposed arms and legs. It was a stark reminder of the flimsy shorts and cropped top I wore, a far cry from the warmth I needed.

"You should... ummm... go get some sleep," Tristan's voice broke the stillness, low and steady, like he was offering a suggestion but knowing full well that it wasn't the solution either of us was really after.

I looked up at him, my throat suddenly dry. What did I say to that? The simple, logical thing would be to agree. To step away, to let this moment pass, to go back to the solitude I so desperately craved. But I couldn't seem to pull away.

"Yeah, I should do that," I finally replied, my voice sounding more distant than I intended, as if I was talking to myself.

He nodded, but his eyes lingered on mine.

"Goodnight, Cassie," he said, his voice soft and final, as he shifted his gaze away from me and turned toward his room. His words hung in the air for a beat longer than necessary, the way he held my gaze, like there was something else he wanted to say, something unsaid.

I don't know what possessed me. Maybe it was the quiet ache in my chest, the gnawing feeling of something unfinished, unresolved. Maybe it was the way his presence loomed over me, steady and warm in the cold hallway.

"I'll just check your room one more time," I called after him, my voice small and tentative, "maybe Kayla forgot something."

He stopped in his tracks, turning around slowly, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he saw through me in an instant. His eyes glinted with the kind of knowing that made me feel both exposed and strangely safe.

"Right, maybe she did," he said, his expression shifting into something mock-serious. He stepped aside to let me pass, and I walked past him, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. My heart skipped, thudding in my chest with a strange urgency.

I reached his room, the space familiar, but somehow different tonight. I walked over to the bed, my fingers brushing the sheets as I pretended to search. I could feel him watching me, his presence behind me like a shadow.

As I bent down, perhaps a little too much, the fabric of my shorts stretching over my skin, I felt it. The weight of his gaze. It was almost physical—the way his eyes followed every movement I made, how they seemed to settle on the curve of my back, the way my hair swayed as I shifted.

"Nothing," I said, straightening up, my voice strained as I moved toward the door.

"Goodnight, Tristan," I murmured, stepping toward the exit, my hand already reaching for the handle. But just as I was about to leave, the door in front of me was pushed closed, and I froze. His arm was there, above my head, his hand flat against the door as he leaned in, his body only inches away from mine.

 My pulse quickened, my back stiffened, and I could feel the warmth of his presence—too close, too much. My eyes stared at the wood, it felt like a barrier, a shield between us that was suddenly useless. The air between us felt thick, charged, like something was about to snap.

He was so close that I could feel the heat radiating from him, and I melted. It was as though the entire room had closed in around us. All I could hear was the sound of my heartbeat, erratic and loud in my ears, drowning out every other noise.

I wasn't sure who moved first—who shifted the air between us. But suddenly, his breath was against my ear, warm and close, sending a shiver down my spine. He wasn't touching me—not yet—but his proximity made me feel things I couldn't name, emotions that twisted together, impossible to unravel.

"Cassie..." His voice was a whisper, barely audible, but it felt like the earth had shifted, like I was no longer standing on solid ground.

I swallowed, my throat tight, my chest heavy with something raw, something unfinished. And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

"You have two options," his voice was low, measured, each word laced with intent. "One—open the door and walk out right now, or two—"

I didn't let him finish. Before he could say another word, I spun around, in one fluid motion, I pressed myself against him, my lips crashing into his with a force that stole the breath from my lungs. My body already pulling me toward him with a force I couldn't control. 

The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was all hunger, raw and fierce, like a dam breaking. I could feel his shock, then his response, his body stiffening for a moment before he was all in, pulling me closer, his hands urgent, desperate. I gripped his shirt, pulling him toward me as though if I didn't, I might drown in the space between us.

His lips moved against mine with a heated intensity, a fierce demand, as though he'd been waiting for this, craving it, as much as I had. Every inch of him felt like fire, like something both too familiar and too dangerous to resist. And yet, in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the past. Not the hurt. Just the kiss.

The kiss was a shock—raw, desperate, and everything I'd been holding back. His lips were soft yet insistent, meeting mine with a hunger that mirrored my own. I felt the heat of his body against mine, his hands suddenly in my hair, pulling me closer. There was no space between us, only the electric pulse of a connection that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the heat of him, the shock of our bodies colliding, the taste of him overwhelming everything I thought I knew. His hands were there—gripping my shoulders, pulling me closer—like he couldn't decide whether to hold me or devour me. I could feel the tension in every muscle, in every breath, as if we'd both been holding back for far too long, and now, finally, there was no choice but to give in.

His lips parted, his tongue meeting mine in a slow, deliberate motion.

The world fell away. There was nothing but him, the warmth of his mouth, the deep ache that had been building inside me. His breath hitched, fingers digging into my waist as if afraid I might disappear. But I didn't pull back. I wanted this. I needed this.

He gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin with a possessiveness that made my breath catch. In one fluid motion, he pulled me up, lifting me effortlessly, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around him, pulling myself closer to him, wanting nothing more than to feel the full force of him against me.

His body pressed me against the door, and I could feel the heat of his chest, the solid strength of him, the raw power of everything he was. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think—everything inside me was consumed by the feel of him, the press of his lips so close to mine, the hard thrum of his heartbeat. It was a pull so strong, so undeniable, that all I could do was surrender to it.

He pulled on the bottom my lips slowly with his teeth before breaking the kiss, his thumb grazed a spot in my throat as he kissed the corner of my mouth and soon his lips were against mine again, his tongue seeking and finding mine in a slow and heated kiss.

I moaned in pure content as my fingers knotted in his hair. He gripped my waist and pulled me closer till my crotch was pressed against his. I grind my hips against his growing erection as our lips moved in sync. His hands trailed down to my ass and palmed my skin, his fingers gliding through my shorts to knead my skin.

He slowly set my legs down, I wanted to protest but his lips were against mine again, his callused fingers skimmed up the line of my stomach. I moaned when he kneaded my breasts. They'd grown ample from pregnancy. He pulled away, his lips trailing kisses up my neck, biting and sucking. 

Every nerve in my body lit up like a livewire, a jolt of heat shooting through me until I felt like I was burning from the inside out. It was impossible to ignore—the rush, the craving, the overwhelming tide of sensation that swelled up in my chest. I missed this. I missed the way his arms had once felt like home, the warmth of him surrounding me, grounding me, even when everything else felt uncertain. 

His palms traveled up my back, tracing my spine and my scar. I shivered from his touch, his lips against my ear.His calloused fingers slides between my thighs.

"Spread your legs," he growled, pulling my earlobe between his teeth.

I shifted my stance, my feet parting instinctively, and in that subtle movement, I felt his smile before I saw it—a curve of warmth and something deeper, something that spoke to the intensity of the moment. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a brief heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow, leaving only the electricity between us.

Then, slowly, he sank to his knees, the shift in his posture commanding my attention in a way that stole the air from my lungs. The sight of him there—on his knees, eyes still fixed on mine with a quiet, knowing intensity—made everything inside me tighten. The space between us felt charged, every second stretching, hanging heavy with anticipation. My breath caught, and for the first time in ages, I couldn't look away.

In that moment, I realized how completely I was at the mercy of him.

"Don't look away," he said grabbing the waistband of my shorts. He planted soft kisses on my thighs.

I groaned when he licked me through my shorts, his big palms trailed up and cupped my tits, kneading and squeezing while he continued to torture me with soft kisses between my legs. His lips kissing and teasing me through my shorts. I raised my hips, grinding against his mouth. 

"Please Tristan," I grunted. I wanted the shorts out of the way.

He smirked and pulled my shorts down along with my panties, grabbing one of my legs and putting it on his shoulder, pulling me close to his face. He leaned closer and inhaled, I went red when he groaned in pleasure.

 I thought I could keep the sound down but immediately Tristan spread me open with his fingers and ran his tongue from my entrance to my clit, my moans were so loud I was scared it could me heard from miles away. I pressed my palm to my mouth to muffle the sound.

He was like a starved man, dragging his tongue over my folds, sucking and licking with no patience. He slipped in a finger, I arched my back and tried to close my legs but he pushed them wide. He added another finger and leaned closer, driving me mad with both his tongue and fingers. The sound of the wetness between my legs and Tristan's constant throaty groan of pleasure echoed in the room. My legs shook, I closed my eyes and threw my head back, my body on the egde of climax. I couldn't breath. Couldn't think. 

"Look at me, Cassie," he demanded and I tried to keep my eyes open as I watched him revel in the taste of me. His tongue moved faster against my clit with extra pressure and I tried to hold onto something, anything. Whimpers of ecstasy crawled up my throat.

Just as I was on the verge of that sweet release, the one I'd been chasing with every breath, he pulled away. It was a jolt—like a gasp of air stolen just before drowning, a shock that left me teetering on the edge, straining for what I couldn't have. My body froze, desperate and aching, unable to let go of the fleeting taste of what I'd almost reached.

I watched him, eyes locked on his every move as he shifted, his muscles flexing under the weight of his slow, deliberate movements. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer, the suddenness of the contact grounding me, yet amplifying the ache that had only deepened. It was a moment suspended between desire and restraint, his touch both comforting and maddening as I tried to steady the storm raging inside me.

  "You taste as addicting as I remember,"he said running his thumb across my lips.

Impatience burned inside me, raw and unrelenting. It had been too long—so long since I'd felt the kind of connection that made the world fall away, since I'd let anyone in. And now, in this moment, with him so close, I needed him with a desperation I couldn't hide. It was primal—urgent, like air, like the very thing that kept me alive.

Without thinking, I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it upward, my fingers trembling with impatience. My palm pressed flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch. I pushed him toward the bed, the pressure of my hands betraying my desperation.

He met my intensity with a quiet smile, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as if he found my need—my urgency—both familiar and unexpected. But he didn't move away. He let me guide him, watching me closely, as though savoring every moment of my unraveling.

I pushed him on the bed, I pulled my top over my head and tossed it away. Tristan's gaze swept over me, a slow, lingering burn that seemed to strip away every inch of my skin. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as if he were struggling to draw in a breath, as if my presence had become something too powerful, too overwhelming to fully take in. The way he looked at me was different—like I was something sacred, something he had known and yet never truly seen, even though I had laid myself bare before him a thousand times. 

His eyes follow me as I went down my knees pulling his pants down, my fingers quickly wrapped around his impressive length.

"I want to taste you," I said running my tongue around the tip. He sat up, his eyes dark and burning with a fierce intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. The air between us thickened, charged with primal. His hand shot out, fingers tangling in my hair with a firm grip that made my pulse race. I felt the tension coil inside me, a knot of anticipation—he was taking control. I knew it wouldn't take long before he took back control but there was no fear, only a wild surge of need.

I loved it. Loved the way he anchored me, the way his presence alone commanded the room, demanding everything from me without a single word. The power in his touch, the certainty in his eyes—it wasn't just physical, it was deeper, like he could reach inside me and pull everything to the surface. And I wanted it. Needed it.

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and tapped the broad tip on my lips.

"Open," he pushed through my lips and I opened up for him. A throaty groan slipped through his lips and it was the hottest sound I'd heard in awhile. He let me adjust to his size before thrusting slowly into my mouth.

"Slap my thighs if it's too much for you," he said 

"I can take it," I said between licks while holding his gaze. I ran my palms up his thighs, fingers gripping and leaving marks behind. I tried to take him deeper but he was too big, I could feel him hitting the back of my throat and I gagged. His palms bracket my throat and he groaned in pleasure as he pumped into my mouth. My toes curl from the sound he was making.

"Fuck, that's so good Cassie. Don't stop," he moaned.

"I will die if I don't get inside you," he groaned and pulled away, he grabbed my arm and pulled up to his body, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that left me breathless. He swallowed my moans with kisses, fisting my hair as his tongue devoured my mouth. 

"I miss you so fucking much it hurts," he said against my lips.

I traced the line of his eyebrows down to cheeks and ran my thumb against his lips, I leaned down and kissed him softly. In one fluid motion, he spun us around, a surge of strength and power that left me breathless. Before I could even react, his body was towering over mine. The heat of his bare skin pressed against me, sending an electric current through every nerve in my body. I could feel the steady beat of his heart, strong and sure, pulsing against my chest. Each breath he took seemed to match mine, as if we were one, moving in sync.

His face buried in my neck, his lips nibbling on the skin. His tongue drags across neck and he sucks hard enough to leave a bruise. My fingers digged into the taut muscles of his back that flexes as he rocked against me. I breathe in the scent of him. A mixture of our bodies. His lips trailed down my collar bone to the swell of my breasts. My back arched off the mattress as he tugged at my nipple with his teeth and sucked on the sensitive skin.

His lips dipped lower, down the slopes of my stomach to the ache between my legs. I gasped once the wetness of tongue ran through my folds. My eyes rolled back as I buried my face in the pillow to muffled the sounds of my moans. 

"Right there, fuck! Don't stop. Yes oh god yes," the words didn't stop as I desperately grind against him. Just when I was so close to getting there, he pulled away again.

He spread my legs wide and slipped two fingers inside me.

"Make yourself come," he said pulling back to watch me fuck his fingers. I lift my hips shamelessly, sliding in and out of his long fingers that stretched me raw. I was so far gone.

"Just like that, nice and slow," he rasped, his eyes glued to the apex of my thighs.

"Can you take another one?" he asked as he slowly added another finger, I groaned.

 I moved my hips faster as I chased my high. I wanted more than his fingers but I didn't want this to end quickly too. My toes curled on the bed as my body shook but fucking Tristan pulled his fingers away just as I was so close to climax. 

I met his devilish smile as he removed his fingers and put them in his mouth sucking them clean.

"Fuck you, Tristan," I groaned utterly frustrated.

 "I didn't wait three years for a quick fuck, I want to savor it slowly. No sleep tonight," he whispered in my ear, each word dripping with a quiet intensity, a promise that both thrilled and unsettled me. 

"I still remember how you like to be fucked, still remember how you bite your lips and roll your eyes back when I hit that spot you like, I still remember the sound you make when your legs shake in orgasm. I'm gonna fuck you so hard Cassie, you'll ask yourself why you didn't open the door and leave and I'm gonna enjoy every second of it."

I was still process his words when he grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

"Shit, condoms. I don't have any," he grunted. 

"It's fine, I'm on birth control." I'd start taking them after Cuba because a part of me knew it'd be hard to resist the craving at some point. He stared at me for awhile, I knew what he was thinking.

"I have not slept with anyone after you." I told him.

"I have not been with anyone either," he said quietly. He dragged the head of his cock through my slit and I shivered. We both watched as the broad head parts my folds and circled my clit repeatedly till I was begging him to fuck me. I bit on my lips as he slid in slowly. I couldn't get enough of him as I lifted my hips. He pushed in slowly into my entrance. I groaned at the soreness, he paused his movement.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little.It's been awhile"

 He slid his thick shaft the rest of the way into me. My back arched as his size stretched me wide.

"So tight and wet, you feel like heaven," he whispered. He moved slowly, watching me as I whimpered, he leaned closer and kissed me softly as he slides in and out of me. I run my finger through his skin, brushing my palms up his back, shoulders, and hair.

He pulled my legs up to his shoulders. He moved slowly trying to get me to adjust to his size.

Tristan's hard and deep thrust inched me forward into the bed, he wasn't holding back. I was sure I'd feel him for days after this. As if he couldn't get enough, he spread my thighs open and made me hold them wide. My back arched off the mattress as I felt him deeper than before.

"Look at me," he growled as I tried to bury my face in the pillow to block out the sound of my moans.

"I'm trying not to scream here," I glared at him and he smirked.

He looked down where we connected, watching himself fuck me. He groaned and moved faster while I tried not pass out from the intense sensations driving me to the edge. He suddenly pulled out and flipped me around on my stomach, he grabbed my hips and spread my legs wide. I fisted the sheets as he entered me from behind. He kneaded my ass, digging his fingers into my skin and smacking me while I groaned into the pillow.

"You have no idea how much I want to possess every part of you, imprint myself in your mind," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, sending a tremor through me.

His hand slid up my spine and scars, fingers brushing lightly over the curve of bone and muscle, the touch both tender and possessive. The heat of his skin on mine left a trail of fire that seemed to linger long after he moved, as if he were marking me in ways I didn't yet understand. His fingers pulled at my hair as he fucked me fast and hard from behind. The slapping of skin, stifled moans and wetness echoed in the room. It was impossible to hold back the sound leaving my lips, the pillow did little to block out the sound.

"Oh fuck, that feels so good," I gasped as he the hit that makes my eye roll back. He didn't stop slamming into the same spot and it drove me wild almost sending me to another dimension.

He turned me around again but I was quick to push him back on the bed and straddle him. His lips curled upward and he gripped my hips as I guided him into me. He grunted as I moved my hips, as if it wasn't enough he grabbed my hip and thrust into me raw and fast. My whole body tensed, I almost couldn't breathe. I was flowing in high ecstasy and slipping into another universe.

"Tristan I can't, it's too much," I gasped trying to hold onto something from the intense pleasure.

"Yes, you can," he smacked my ass.

"Mmmh," I groaned, grinding against him.

His fingers coming up to wrap around my throat in a firm and possessive grip. My hips moved faster, chasing my orgasm.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come." His grip around my neck tightened.

"I'm about to come," I gasped holding his gaze.

He flipped me around, I was now buried beneath me.

"I control how you come,"he said gripping both of my wrists and pinning them above my head against the pillows.

"You're going to take every inch as you come, won't you Cassie."

"Yes," I pleaded. I felt him at my entrance and soon he was thrusting into me. 

"Let me see how fucking gorgeous you are when you come," he said demanding my gaze. I stared at him letting him the pure ecstasy and pleasure seeping through. As though this moment was all I could ever hold onto, as though tomorrow might tear us apart.

"Please don't stop, don't fucking stop Tristan" I whimpered as I felt myself climbing up that high. I writhed beneath him.

"I'm going to come," I whispered. Every nerve in my body ignited, a wave of heat surging through me, building with an intensity that left me breathless. The air around us felt thick, charged, and I struggled to catch my breath as the sensation swelled inside me, impossible to contain. My thoughts scattered, slipping away as his presence consumed every corner of my mind. And then there was his gaze—deep, unyielding, as if he was tracing the very essence of who I was. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that took me to the edge of everything I had ever known. In that moment, it wasn't just desire I saw in his stare—it was something far more profound, a silent promise that I was his entire world. I knew, in that instant, that I was no longer just here with him. I was his, completely.

"Give it all to me," he rasped, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his hand moving to my waist and guiding me deeper into him. A jolt of electricity shot through me, igniting every nerve, every fiber of my being. It started as a slow burn, a simmering tension building deep within, before it surged, faster and hotter, until I was consumed by it. And then, finally, it hit—the moment when everything coiled tight, and the world around me blurred into a single, sharp point of sensation. I reached the peak, and it was like an explosion, a wave crashing through my body, sweeping me up in its overwhelming force. I was suspended in that perfect, shattering instant, lost to the fire, to the intensity that left me gasping, undone, and utterly free.

Tristan sat up and wrapped his arm around me, his right hand cupped my neck as he pulled me to his lips. My sweaty and flushed skin pressed against his hard torso. I kissed him with a desperation that felt like it might break me. My arms wrapped around him with the fierce tenderness of someone unwilling to let go, even though I knew I couldn't stop time. I sank into him, as if I could drown in the heat of his touch, the way his presence seemed to pull me deeper into something I couldn't name. The world outside faded, leaving only the intensity of the connection between us.

It wasn't just his body against mine anymore. It was something deeper, more raw—he was touching the very core of who I was, making love to my soul. Every inch of me, every vulnerable, fractured part, surrendered to him. I let him possess me in the way you give yourself up to something you know is both your salvation and your destruction. There was no room for fear, only the unbearable beauty of the unknown, as I let myself fall into him completely.

"You're fucking perfect," he whispered, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth with a tenderness that felt both reckless and reverent.

A quiet laugh escaped me as I tugged at my disheveled hair, sticky with sweat, tangled from the chaos of us. "No, I'm a mess."

His gaze softened, an emotion flickering in his eyes that I couldn't quite place—something like adoration mixed with a touch of awe. He cupped my face in his hands, his touch grounding me in the moment. "My mess," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "The best mess ever. My perfect mess." His words wrapped around me like a secret, like a promise I wasn't sure I was ready to accept.

I laughed, breathless, but it was more than just amusement. There was a strange sweetness in the way he looked at me, as though the pieces of me—disjointed, imperfect, frantic—were somehow everything he'd ever wanted.

We fell into silence then, our breaths mingling in the space between us. The world around us seemed to hold its breath, the weight of unspoken things pressing down on us like a storm gathering just beyond the horizon. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek, slow and reverent, his eyes heavy with something that made my chest ache. He looked almost... sad, in that fleeting, delicate moment, his lips turning down slightly as if the weight of what we both knew was too much to bear.

His hand moved toward me, hesitant, trembling slightly as though afraid I might pull away at the slightest touch. I could feel the weight of his doubt in the air between us, see the guilt pooling in his eyes, heavy and raw. It was as if he still believed I hated him, as if every inch of me was a fortress he wasn't sure he could breach. His fingers, tentative and unsure, brushed my arm, barely there, like a question whispered in touch.

I didn't pull away. Instead, I moved closer until our legs were pressed together, the heat of his body seeping into mine. His hand followed, trailing slowly, a steady path from my arm to the small of my back, then down to my hips, as though he was testing the waters, uncertain if I'd pull away or welcome him in.

"Tristan," I called softly.

He looked at me, his eyes dark with the weight of everything unspoken, as if he was bracing himself for the moment I'd finally turn away from him for good. 

I reached up, my fingers brushing through his hair, holding his face in my hands, grounding him, grounding myself. "I don't hate you," I said softly, my voice certain now. 

His lips—those full, soft lips—curled into a small, endearing smile, and he just stared at me, as though he were memorizing every inch of my face, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

"I don't want this to end," he whispered. "It feels like a dream and maybe I'm selfish for wanting time to stop so I could savor this moment—here," he leaned closer and kissed my arm while my cheeks grew hot.

"What if I don't want to see other people?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, a fragile confession that hung in the air between us. I met his gaze, trying not to lose myself in the depth of his eyes, the way they seemed to lock onto mine with that familiar, unmistakable spark. A glimmer that made me question everything I'd tried to convince myself of.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck in delicate, almost reverent circles. "I don't want you to feel like you need to be with me because of the kids, Chloe," he said, his voice low, rough with something unspoken. "I want all of you, every part, with no doubts hanging over it. I'd wait an eternity if it meant earning back every piece of you. No hesitation. No fear."

I nodded, but couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on the rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that seemed to echo in the silence between us. In my mind, I pictured it—his heart, forgetting me. Moving on, even though he'd promised to wait. And it hurt more than I could have anticipated, that thought.

"I'm not doing it because of the kids," I finally admitted, the truth slipping out like a secret I'd buried too long. His surprise was almost palpable, and I couldn't bring myself to look up, to see how it affected him.

He paused, processing my words, before he spoke again. "All I want is to see you happy," he said softly, his fingers still tracing gentle patterns on the back of my neck, like he was trying to soothe away the remnants of my uncertainty.

"I'm happy, Tristan." I smiled. "I'm just scared to admit my feelings to myself. I convinced myself that being ice cold would keep me safe, keep me from feeling the way I felt before. But the truth is..." I swallowed, pushing through the vulnerability that threatened to swallow me whole. "The truth is, Tristan, I wanted to hate you. I was mad at myself for still feeling something for you. I tried to bury it. Tried to deny it. But it always finds its way back. I missed you, even when I didn't want to."

His eyes softened, the weight of my confession settling between us like a quiet storm. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, unwavering, as though he had always known this was what I needed to hear.

"I don't want anyone else, Cassie," he said, his tone a vow, a promise written in every syllable. "It's you. Only you."

"I still suck in the kitchen," I said, the absurdity of it all making me want to shrink into him.

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, filling the space around us. "I don't care," he said, his arms pulling me closer, enveloping me in the safety of his embrace. "You're still perfect."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe it.

"You know I meant what I said," I whispered, my voice steady but thick with everything I hadn't said until now. I met his gaze, locking onto the raw, vulnerable depth of his eyes. "I forgive you." The words hung between us, simple but heavy, a promise that rippled through me like a calm after a storm.

I felt his body relax beneath my touch, the tension that had held him so rigid easing away, as though a weight had finally lifted from his chest. The relief in his eyes, the way his shoulders softened, made my heart ache with a tenderness I wasn't prepared for.

"And I still care about you more than you know," I continued, my fingers reaching for his. 

I kissed my way up his chin and met his beautiful lips in a soft kiss. I pressed against him as his fingers traced the scar on my back. His curious fingers trailed down between my legs, his thumb circling my clit. I bit into the skin of his neck stifling a moan. 

"I meant what I said about no sleep," he whispered in my ear before sliding into me with deep slow strokes that made me dig my fingers into his skin leaving marks behind.

He had no idea that he already owned every piece of me—the fragments of my heart, the parts of myself I'd hidden so carefully, all of it had been quietly surrendered to him long ago. He held the power to unravel me, to shatter the fragile walls I'd built around the remnants of my trust. It was terrifying, this vulnerability I hadn't asked for but couldn't escape, knowing that with just one careless move, he could destroy me. And yet, even in that fear, I couldn't help but want him to, to be consumed by him completely, even if it meant losing myself in the process.