29.Come Back To Bed

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You spent the night at his apartment.

This time, it wasn't reckless.

It wasn't dangerous.

It was allowed.

You kissed him on the balcony as the city lights shimmered behind you, hands buried in his hair.

"I thought we were going to lose it all," you whispered.

"So did I."

"Still scared?"

He gave you a look—tired but soft. "Only of what I'd become if I lost you."

He carried you to the bedroom like it was your honeymoon.

Undressed you like he'd never seen you before. Took his time learning every inch of you all over again, reverent and slow.

When he sank into you, you both moaned—like your bodies had been waiting for this peace.

He whispered into your neck: "You're real. You're still here."

You wrapped your legs around him. "I always will be."

The sex was languid, deep, meaningful—less desperation, more gratitude. He held you the entire time. Mouth never far from yours. Breathing synced.

You came together in a slow, perfect wave. He collapsed on top of you, skin flushed, heart racing.

He buried his face in your neck and whispered, "This... us... is mine to protect."

And this time, he could mean it without fear.

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