Page 308 of Let Me In

My breath deepens. Muscles melting beneath his touch.

He murmurs as he works. Little things. Wordless ones, mostly. Soft hums of approval.

And when he finishes, he presses a kiss—warm and sure—to the small of my back.

Then gently redresses me. I let out a soft sigh as his fingers guide the fabric back into place, my body yielding beneath his hands. Pulls the blankets up. Tucks them in around my shoulders like I’m something worth keeping safe. Like I’m his to protect. Like no one’s ever tucked me in this way before, and maybe no one ever will again.

Because to him, I am.

The room is dim now, only the faint golden glow of the bedside lamp left on. It casts long shadows across the walls, catching on the curve of his jaw, the silver at his temples.

He watches me for a beat.

Then rises, moves around the bed.

And slips in beside me.

His arm slides beneath my head, pulling me gently to his chest. His other hand finds my waist. Holds. Anchors.

I go without hesitation.

Curl into him like I was made for it. Legs tangling with his. One arm stretched across his ribs. My cheek against the steady thrum of his heart.

He exhales, deep. The kind of breath you only take when something inside you finally lets go.

His hands find mine beneath the covers, and he brings them to his lips. His kiss is warm and deliberate, a soft press that lingers just long enough to make my pulse stutter. I exhale into the touch, my fingers tightening slightly in his—as if holding onto the promise he seals there.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

He’s not just saying it to comfort me, or steady me, or remind me.

He’s saying it because it overflows.

Because there’s nowhere else for it to go.

Tears sting at the backs of my eyes again, but this time, they don’t fall.

This time, I just press closer.

And whisper it back into the warm hollow of his neck.

“I love you too.”

He holds me tighter.

Tucks me in fully beneath the quilt and into his body. His nose brushes my hair. His fingers trace idle lines across my hip, my back, my shoulder.

Nothing rushed.

Nothing more needed.

Only this.

Only us.

The dogs settle in again—Luca’s tail giving one last sleepy thump against the floorboards, Cleo shifting with a soft huff, their warmth folding into the hush of the room like punctuation at the end of a prayer. The quiet is full. Whole.

And as I fall asleep there, wrapped in his arms, his love, his care, I know.

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