Page 107 of When Love Found Us
Blythe’s lips part like she wants to argue, but then she closes her mouth. Her fingers drift to cover mine.
“You’re right,” she whispers. “She comes first. The best way to protect her from him is to make sure he never gets close. Not even now.”
Relief washes through me, but it doesn’t loosen my grip on her. If anything, it pulls me closer. I brush my lips against her nose, then her mouth—slow and lingering. A promise.
“After this, you can do anything you want,” I murmur against her lips.
“Even shopping for baby clothes?”
I smile just a little. “We have to start the nursery.”
Her fingers slide up my chest, teasing the collar of my shirt. “Maybe even buy a house,” she muses, “so we can have a big backyard?—”
“And—”
“And chickens, too,” she adds before I can finish.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Anything you want.” I kiss her again, deeper this time, letting her taste the truth in my words. “Just be a little more patient. One last push.”
“One last push,” she agrees.
And then I’m lifting her into my arms.
She gasps against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair as I lower her onto the bed, pressing my body over hers. The heat between us snaps, sharp and electric, like it’s been waiting for an excuse to ignite.
Her nails bite into my shoulders as I kiss her deeper, hungrily. Her body arches into mine, hips meeting hips, heat sinking into every place we touch. My hands slide up her sides, memorizing every curve, every inch of her, until she’s breathless beneath me, her thighs parting in invitation.
I groan against her lips, fighting the pull to take more, to lose myself in her completely.
Her hands slide beneath my shirt, fingers skimming over my stomach, sending heat spiraling through me. She tilts her head, lips brushing along my jaw, and, fuck—I have to stop this before I lose the last bit of control I have left.
I pull back just enough to press my forehead to hers, breathing hard.
“We can’t,” I murmur.
Her lips are swollen, pupils dark. “I know,” she whispers. But she doesn’t stop running her fingers down my chest, slow and torturous. “I just wanted to remind you what’s waiting for you after this.”
This is the first time she’s been this bold, and maybe she’s ready for more. Though I can’t take any other steps. Not yet. I let out a rough laugh, shaking my head as I try to calm the fuck down. “Like I’d ever forget.”
She smiles, teasingly. I kiss her once more—slow, deep, like a promise I fully intend to keep. Then I push myself up because there’s a fight waiting for me.
And this time, I’m not just fighting for her.
I’m fighting for us.
ChapterForty-One
Atlas
The motel is a dump.
A long-forgotten stretch of asphalt, neon signs buzzing weakly against the night, casting everything in a dull, artificial glow. A place people come to disappear—or to do things no one wants to remember. The hallway carpet is stained, the light overhead flickering like it’s dying, painting everything in a sickly yellow.
I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting for tonight.
This is where Winston Worthington IV will pay for everything he did to Blythe. For the nights, she was too afraid to sleep. For the scars—visible and invisible—that he left behind. For every time, he dared to believe she belonged to him.
I grip my gun tighter, exhaling slow. I know the drill. Sanford’s team is stationed outside. Malerick and Cassian are watching the exits. It only took a day to orchestrate this. The Hollow Syndicate took the bait, busy chasing a fake shipment halfway across the state. Which means Winston is walking in alone, convinced he’s about to reclaim his wife.
