Page 122 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“You’re ridiculous,” I snorted, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Yeah,” he murmured, holding me close, “but I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I just rested my head against his chest, breathing in the scent of sawdust, fresh paint, and Webb. All around us was proof of what he’d created—not just the house, but the intention.

And I absolutely loved it.

Chapter 38

Webb

Iheld my breath, every muscle in my body locked in place as her arms wrapped around me and her head came to rest against my chest. She was here—solid, warm, in the home I’d built with her in mind—but still, something in me refused to settle. My heart pounded, caught in that limbo between hope and heartbreak, unsure whether to shatter or soar.

She hadn’t answered. Not really. And even with her this close, I couldn’t exhale.

I needed to hear it. I needed to know.

Then she lifted her head and looked up at me with those eyes I’d missed every single damn day since they took her away.

“I don’t want to live without you,” she whispered. “And I love the house, Webb. I love everything about it.”

I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto tension until it all let go in one long, ragged exhale.

“You sure I don’t have to walk through ice?” I asked, trying to steady the rasp in my voice with a half-smile.

I froze for a moment, swallowing hard as the weight of it all settled in. Then, with care, I lifted Gabby into my arms—holding her like something precious, something sacred—and carried her down the hallway toward the one room that had meant the most. The one I’d saved for last.

As I stepped into the bedroom, my arms still wrapped tightly around her, it felt like the air changed—heavier, quieter, almost reverent. This space was different. I’d built it for her. For us.

The walls were painted a soft mushroom tone, warm and calming, while the bedding—a pale cream I’d chosen on a whim—made me wonder if she’d like it. The bed itself was brand new: solid and steady, wide enough for both of us to stretch out but still close enough to find each other in the quiet hours of the night.

I set her down gently, but her hands didn’t let go. They slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, fingertips warm against my skin as she pushed the fabric upward. I lifted my arms, letting her pull it over my head and toss it aside. Her fingers moved slowly down my chest, tracing the lines of old scars and ink like she was trying to memorize every part of me, committing it all to memory in quiet reverence.

“You sure?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, eyes never leaving mine. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”

I kissed her—slow, deep, and searching—and felt her hands move to the waistband of my jeans. A low groan escaped against her mouth as she unbuttoned them, her touch surer than I’dexpected, sending a jolt of heat straight through me. I stepped out of them just as she pulled her top over her head, revealing smooth skin and soft curves that stole the breath from my lungs and sent a sharp ache through my chest.

Gabby was even more beautiful than I remembered, every detail sharper, more vivid, like time had only deepened what I felt. As she lay back on the bed, her hair fanned out across the pillow, and her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, her eyes never leaving mine. I climbed in beside her, our legs tangling easily, naturally, as if no time had passed at all. My mouth found her skin, trailing soft kisses from her collarbone to the hollow of her throat. She arched into me, her body pressing close like she couldn’t get near enough, like the space between us had never belonged.

I didn’t rush. I took my time, letting every kiss speak for what I couldn’t yet say. My lips traced a slow path across warm skin—along the curve of her neck, across one shoulder, down to the dip of her waist and the sensitive inside of a thigh, each place drawing a deeper response than the last. When I slid my hand between her legs, she gasped my name, the sound raw and unguarded, and I held onto it like something precious, tucking it away deep inside me.

Gabby was already wet when my fingers found her, the heat of her making my pulse stutter. Her hips lifted instinctively, pressing into my touch, and her fingers tightened around the sheets, knuckles white as she tried to hold on to something—anything—while I unraveled her.

“Webb,” she breathed, “please!”

I kissed her lips again, positioning myself above her, one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding along her hip. Andwhen I finally pushed inside her, we both exhaled like we’d been holding our breath for months.

She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me in close as I moved slowly, deliberately, taking my time because this wasn’t about urgency—it was about us. About feeling everything. Her nails grazed down my back in a way that sent a shiver through me, and when she said my name, it came out like a prayer and a promise all at once—soft, reverent, unforgettable.

We found a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like muscle memory laced with something electric. Her moans shifted into gasps, each one pulling me closer to the edge. My control began to slip, unraveling thread by thread, but I held on—kissing her through the build, pulling her tighter against me, moving deeper with every breathless beat between us.

When she came again, clinging to me with a shudder and a cry, I followed her over the edge seconds later, the world blurring around the edges as everything else fell away.

The release tore through me, so intense it stole the strength from my limbs, and all I could do was collapse beside her, breathless and spent. I gathered her into my arms, her skin warm and slick with sweat, her heartbeat racing in sync with mine.

She didn’t speak right away—just curled into me like she’d always belonged there, like this was the place she was meant to be.

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