Page 129 of Every Shattered Note
She trembles, her back arches.Her body pulses tight around me, again and again, like she’s trying to memorize the shape of me from the inside.
And I lose it—groaning into her shoulder as I spill into the condom, burying myself deep and holding her like I can press the truth of this moment into her skin.
Like if I hold her close enough, the world will quiet for good.We collapse together.
Breathless.
Sweat-slicked.
Tangled in each other.
And for a long time, I don’t move.
I just keep her there—soft, warm, real—folded against me like she’s the only part of this life that ever made sense.
Not for the sex.Not even for the fire.
But for the stillness that follows.
The weight of her against me.
The terrifying, beautiful peace I feel with her in my arms.
I’m in trouble.
Because this?
This isn’t something I’ll forget in the morning or bury under the wrong timing.
This is something my body already knows.
This is a beginning I didn’t plan.
And for the first time, I want to stay where I am.
Inside her.
Inside this moment.
Because I’ve never wanted anything more than the future I see when I look in her eyes.
ChapterFifty-Six
Dexter
March 12, 2001
I wake before her.
The room is tinted in muted gold, the early light sneaking through the blinds and spilling across her skin like it belongs there.Like she belongs here.Draped over me, tangled and breathing softly, wearing my T-shirt like a promise half kept—half shrugged off in the middle of the night.
Her hair is a dark fan across my chest, her arm slung over my stomach like she owns this place.Like she owns me.
Maybe she does.
I don’t move.Don’t breathe too loud.The air feels fragile, like even the smallest shift could undo this—whatever this is.It’s not just sleep or sex or morning warmth.It’s something I don’t have words for.Something that tightens my throat and makes the room feel fuller than it should.
She sighs.
