Page 13 of Ruthless Possession
Matthew unlocks the door, pushing it open with a flourish. "Welcome home, Morgan."
The entryway smells like lemon polish and new beginnings. I run my hand over the mantel in the living room, remembering the pixelated video call where we'd argued for an hour before choosing it. The furniture sits perfectly arranged, like a showroom, waiting for us to mess it up with our lives.
"The kitchen," I breathe, stepping onto the cool tile. The farmhouse sink we both wanted is even bigger in person. It's all real.
Matthew opens the refrigerator. "We stocked up. Figured you might be hungry after work."
Tears stream down my face as I take it all in. Six years of building this life together, despite the distance. Six years of video calls and text messages and the constant ache of separation. And now they're here. We're here.
"I kept thinking," I admit, "that I was foolish for waiting. Everyone told me I should just move in, that you wouldn't mind. But I couldn't. This was always meant to be our home."
Trenton pulls me into his arms, his voice gruff with emotion. "No one else could have built this with us, Morgan. No one else could have waited."
"Let me show you the rest," Matthew says, taking my hand.
We explore the house room by room: the office we designed for my lesson planning, the guest bathroom with its rainfall showerhead, the master bedroom with its king-sized bed and adjoining bath. Every detail exactly as we'd planned during those late-night calls from overseas.
"The view is even better than I imagined," I whisper, staring out the bedroom window at the mountains beyond our property.
"Just wait until sunset," Trenton says, coming to stand behind me, his arms encircling my waist. "We've been missing this for too long."
I turn in his arms, looking up at both of them. "I can't believe you're really here."
"Believe it," Matthew murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We're not going anywhere."
As the sun begins to set, casting golden light across our home, I finally let myself fully accept that this is real. No more deployments. No more goodbyes. No more counting down days until we're together.
Just us. Finally home.
chapter three
Morgan
The hunger hits me all at once.
Not gradually. Not building. Just there. Like I've missed a step in the dark, that lurch in the stomach that won't settle.
They're real. They're here. And my body hasn't caught up to what my mind already knows.
Trenton sees it before I can say a word. He always does. His eyes drop to my mouth, then back up, and something shifts in his expression, the careful restraint he's been holding all evening cracking at the edges.
He doesn't ask. He moves.
One arm behind my knees, one at my back, and then I'm off the floor entirely, gasping, my arms finding his neck automatically.
"Where do you want her?" His voice has dropped low and rough. He's asking Matthew, but his eyes stay on me.
"The bedroom." Matthew's already moving, pushing open doors ahead of us. "Our bedroom."
Trenton carries me like I'm nothing. Like he could carry me forever and barely notice. I feel every controlled step, every measured breath, the tension in his biceps beneath my back. Six months. Six months of video calls and static and the particular loneliness of a bed that was always meant for three.
The master bedroom is exactly as we designed it. The king-sized bed. The wide windows. The last of the evening light coming in warm and gold across the floor.
He lays me down.
Then he hovers over me, the restraint gone from his face entirely.
"Six months," he says. Low. His mouth finds mine while Matthew's hands move to the buttons of my dress. He doesn't fumble, doesn't rush. Each button is released with a slow purpose that makes me tremble.
