Page 170 of Requiem
And through all of it, through every heartbreak and every goodbye and every impossible thing that tried to destroy us, there was always this invisible thread stretching between us, pulling us back toward one another no matter how far apart we drifted.
We should have lost this.
There were a hundred moments when our story should have ended. A hundred opportunities for tragedy to win. Somewhere between addiction and violence and grief and years spent believing we’d never find our way back to each other, we should have become nothing more than a beautiful, terrible memory.
But we didn’t.
Somehow, against every odd stacked against us, he survived what would have been impossible for most people. A sob catches in my throat, because for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel fragile or like it could disappear. It feelsreal.
I can suddenly see it so clearly that it almost hurts. Mornings beside him in a home filled with laughter. Growing older together until the dark hair I love so much turns silver. Decades of ordinary moments that once felt completely impossible, now stretching out before us. For so long, all I’ve wanted was more time.
One more day. One more hour. One more message. One morechance.
And now he’s offering me the rest of his life.
My vision blurs with tears as I look back at him, at the man I almost lost, at the person who has owned every piece of my heart for years. My home, my future, the absolute love of my life. And suddenly, saying yes feels as natural as breathing.
“Yes,” I sob out. “Yes, Jude. Of course.”
The relieved sound that leaves him sounds like a laugh and a sob. He slips the ring onto my shaking hand before pulling me into him. Then he kisses me, desperately and deeply.
I melt into it, fingers tangling into his hair while his arms wrap tightly around my waist beneath the stars. The ring glitters against his shoulder when I touch him, and the reality of it sends another wave of emotion crashing through me. He carefully lowers me backward onto the dock, hovering over me beneath endless moonlight while the ocean roars softly around us.
His lips lovingly move over mine, and I’m already digging my nails into his back, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want to go inside?” he asks, pausing everything.
I grin up at him. “No. Here’s perfect right now.”
He kisses me again, smiling against my lips. My dress rides up my thighs, and he pulls my underwear to the side. His fingers find me already ready for him, and the noise he makes sends a tremor through me. Two fingers sink inside me, and my back bows off the dock planks.
His eyes are hazel pools in the moonlight. The intimacy of being watched while his fingers are inside me is almost unbearable. It’s too much and not enough, making my heart race and my throat close and my hips shift upward seeking more.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. His fingers curl at the end of each stroke, a territory he mapped years ago and never forgot. “Let me hear you.”
I’m beyond words now, whimpering against his mouth.
“You have no idea.” His lips brush my ear. “No idea how many nights I thought about this. About you. About the way you—” His voice breaks on the last word as my inner muscles clench around his fingers.
“Jude.” His name tears out of me. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
“More. I need—” My hips roll against his hand, frantic now, chasing something that’s building.
“Yeah?”
I’m nodding, gasping, my fingers tangled in his hair and my thighs trembling around his wrist. The pressure builds, a thousand points of sensation all pulling toward the same inevitable center. His name falls from my lips, over and over. His fingers never stop, never falter, driving me higher until—
I shatter. The orgasm rolls through me in pulses, each one more intense than the last. My body arches off the dock, and I hear myself cry out. He works me through it, fingers gentling as I come down, and when I finally open my eyes, he’s watching me with a smirk.
“Good girl,” he breathes.
Before I can respond, he lifts his hand from between my thighs, bringing his fingers to his mouth. His lips part. His tongue traces the length of his ring finger, then his middle.
I surge upward and kiss him. My hands fumble between us, finding his belt, the button of his pants, the zipper. He helps me push the fabric down his hips.
His forehead drops to my shoulder as he thrusts inside me with a groan. My legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, and he sinks deeper. The pace he sets is slow and deliberate, and words abandon us both while he makes love to me on this dock where it all started.
Where we met. Where we fell in love. Got engaged.
