Becca

The world tilts, splinters, reforms around the taste of him. Warm. Desperate. Familiar in a way that makes my heart ache, like it’s remembering something it should never have lost. Every nerve ending sparks to life, leaving me trembling, and I drink him in as if it could ever be enough.

When he finally breaks the kiss, I can’t stop myself. I chase him, searching for his mouth, for the anchor of his lips, the weight of his body pressed against me. He only pulls back far enough to rest his forehead on mine, his breath rough and uneven.

“God, pretty girl…” His voice is wrecked, stripped down to raw, unfiltered truth. “I thought I’d never get this again.”

My eyes sting, hot tears blurring everything but him. I blink them back, clinging to the certainty burning in his gaze.

He’s here.

He came back for me, just as he promised.

His thumb brushes my jaw, slow and steady, while his nose nudges mine. I memorize everything—the thunder of his heartbeat under my hands, the sharp rise and fall of his chest, the way his weight grounds me. Comfort spreads through me, fierce and fragile at once, like heat soaking into frozen skin.

With him here, I feel whole. A fact that terrifies me. I’ve lived so long believing I’m insignificant, barely a person given my history… the life I come from. But with Shane Montgomery, the once-paralyzing fear doesn’t stop you. It dares you to hold on. To close your eyes and surrender to the thrill of what could be.

I’m helpless to fight it. Resigned to let myself fall.

I breathe him in, greedy for that soap-and-cedar scent that always feels like calm. Like safety. Like home.

“Don’t let me go,” I whisper against his lips. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“Never. Not now. Not ever,” he vows, the words rough with conviction.

He grazes my mouth once more, then pulls back to look at me. His eyes are molten, fierce, yet somehow tender. Like this is the moment he’s been living for.

“Becca,” he rasps, every syllable thick with longing. “I need you.”

The ache in his voice ignites something sharp and certain inside me. 

“I need you too,” I whisper, breathless. “Please, Shane.”

The second the words leave my mouth, something in him breaks loose.

He moves fast, rolling over me until his weight surrounds me—anchoring, consuming—like he can’t get close enough. His chest crashes into mine, his breath hot against my lips. His thigh pins mine, solid and unyielding, and the hard press of his arousal makes my pulse spike, my breath stutter. Every shift stokes the fire until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. The mattress dips beneath us, the world collapsing to this—his weight, his breath, his need burning hot and undeniable.

Desire tears through me, fierce and overwhelming, tangled with the fear it might vanish if I blink. My hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer until there’s nothing left between us but desperation and the ache of finally.

“Pretty girl…” His voice is strained, rough as gravel. His thumb traces from my jaw to the hollow of my throat, lingering there like he can feel my pulse racing for him. “Talk to me. I need to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”

My throat locks tight, words scraping raw, but my body betrays me. I arch into him, hips lifting in answer, breath fracturing into a sound I can’t hold back.

“You.” The word trembles free. “I want you.”

His breath catches hard, like my words stole the air out of him. His eyes blaze—fierce, disbelieving—before his mouth crashes onto mine. The kiss is nothing soft. It’s hungry, aching, like he’s been starving for me, like I’m the only thing that can keep him alive.

When he tears back, his forehead presses to mine, both of us gasping. His thumb strokes my lip, reverent even as his chest heaves with the strain of holding himself back. “Then you’ve got me,” he rasps, the vow breaking on a groan. “All of me. Always.”

The words ignite something wild in me. I drag him down again, mouth desperate, hands sliding up his neck, tangling in his hair. His answering growl rumbles against my lips, urgency crashing between us, too fierce to deny.

His hands are everywhere, skimming my sides, gripping my hips, dragging me closer until I’m caged completely beneath him. The weight of his body presses down, hot and overwhelming, and I arch into it without thought, craving more.

“Shane—” My voice cracks on his name, half plea, half surrender.

His mouth claims mine again, harder this time, tongues tangling, urgency sharp and relentless. Every kiss feels like he’s branding me, staking a claim he has no intention of giving back. His thighs wedge tighter, his arousal grinding into me until my whole body trembles with the force of it.

I clutch at his back, fingers clawing through his shirt, desperate to hold him, desperate to feel more. The fabric twists in my grip as though it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

“God, Becca…” His words tear out on a ragged breath between kisses. “You undo me.”

He drags his mouth down my jaw to my throat. The scrape of his teeth there steals the air from my lungs. My hips lift in answer, meeting the hard thrust of him, and the sound that breaks from his chest is pure devastation—rough, guttural, undone.

The urgency between us burns hotter, faster, until I don’t know how we’ll survive it, only that I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.

My fingers shove beneath the hem of his shirt, desperate to find skin. He growls into my mouth, then pulls back long enough to strip it off himself, tossing it aside. I don’t wait. Sweatshirt off, sleep shorts gone—suddenly I’m bare beneath him, trembling but refusing to hide.

His eyes sweep over me and then settle—slow, burning, unblinking. “God, look at you,” he breathes. “So damn beautiful. So mine.”

But inside, the doubts crash in.

The scars no one sees.

The reminders of every difference between us.

What is a girl like me compared to someone like Amanda? 

Compared to the polished, perfect life his parents mapped out for him?

Shame prickles hot over my skin, and I flinch before I can stop it.

“Hey.” His voice cuts through the spiral. His hand cups my cheek, eyes boring into mine with that fierce intensity that always steals my breath. “Don’t do that, pretty girl. Not with me. Whatever you’re thinking, please—just stop.”

I blink against the tears, chest tight, throat aching with the weight of how he makes me feel. His thumb strokes across my cheekbone, grounding me, reminding me of his love.

“You’re mine, Becca.” The words are rough, as if they cost him something, but he never looks away. “Not because of what you wear or where you come from, or any of that fake-ass bullshit they insist defines a worthy life. You’re mine because you are you. And that’s everything. You are all I need.”

His touch changes then, becoming gentle and coaxing. Fingertips trail from my jaw down the curve of my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“Tell me you hear me. Tell me you believe me.”

He drags his fingers across my collarbone, slow and deliberate, then lower, tracing idle circles along my ribs, skimming the swell of my breasts. Each pass chases the shame away, leaving behind nothing but scorching need. 

“Yes…” My breath catches, trembling between soft gasps. “I believe you.”

My skin tingles, alive everywhere he touches, everywhere he hasn’t yet. He takes his time, worship in every stroke, pulling me out of my head and back into the fire simmering under my skin. The knot of doubt unravels. Longing moves in, hot and fierce, curling through me like I’ll burn from the inside out if he doesn’t touch me—everywhere. All of me.

“Shane…” His name breaks from me, part plea, part surrender, my hips shifting in restless answer.

His lips trail lower, slow and teasing, down the column of my throat. Each scrape of his teeth sends shivers racing across my skin. His hand follows, sliding over the swell of my breast, thumb brushing over a hardened nipple just enough to make me gasp—then drifting away, leaving me aching, strung tighter with every retreat.

He’s doing it on purpose. Every measured stroke. Every pause is deliberate. He’s coaxing me out of my head, replacing doubt with fire until all that’s left is the desperate thrum between my thighs.

“Shane, please…” My voice fractures on his name, hips tilting restlessly, silently begging.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my skin, the words both promise and torment. His palm slides lower, over my stomach, lingering just above where I’m aching for him. His breath hitches, his whole body taut with restraint, like he’s holding himself back by sheer force of will.

My pulse pounds. My body trembles, caught between his hand hovering where I need him most and the unbearable promise in his eyes.

“Tell me,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Tell me if this is what you want.”

Heat floods me. A needy sound breaks free as I arch into his touch, gasping when his fingers finally brush lower—just enough to make me whimper.

“Yes,” I whisper, breathless, certain. “It’s what I want.”

The air between us crackles, thick with heat, with everything we’ve both been starving for. His gaze pins me—blazing, reverent, fierce devotion written in every line of him.

And in that look, I know… whatever comes next, I’ll never belong to anyone but him.

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