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My body trembles, her cheek falls against my nose, and we both suck in air, trying to catch our breath as my cock stays inside of her. Suddenly, I hear a sniffle, and when I look, her lips are quivering.
“What’s wrong, Dove?” I croak. “Talk to me.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says weakly. “I just didn’t realize how much resentment I was holding on to. Resentment toward Enzo. My uncle. Everyone.” She bites her lip. “Thank you. For giving me back my control for a few minutes. Reminding me I have a voice.” Spinning around, she kisses me. “I love you. I love you so much.”
I bury my head into her neck, the handcuffs making it impossible to hold her the way I want. “I love you, Briar James. And I promise I will never let another person treat you the way Enzo did again.” I feel that sick feeling in my stomach. The one I feel every time I remember all she endured. “I’m sorry I fucking failed you for so long. Not stepping in, letting him do that shit.” I press my lips to her soft, sweet skin. “I’ll spend my life making it up to you.”
She cups my cheeks, bringing our mouths together. “You have nothing to make up for. Nothing at all.” She looks around my office. “So, now that you’re healed … what’s next?” I can read the worry on her face like a book. “Are you going back to being undercover?”
She looks down like she’s scared for the answer, so I force her gaze back to mine.
“No, sweetheart.” I shake my head lightly. “I’m still going to be an agent, but my days of working undercover are done. I swear.”
“Thank God,” she whimpers.
“Besides, when you’re a famous artist one day, I probably won’t even have to work.” I wink. “Now, we’d better get me uncuffed and put on our clothes before I want round two.”
Giggling, she lightly smacks her hand against her forehead. “I actually forgot you were cuffed.” Reaching around me, she gives me a playful look. “We might need to bring these home. You know … just in case.”
At her words, my spent cock twitches when I imagine her handcuffed to our bed. She’s right; we’re absolutely bringing them home.
One Month Later
Briar and I sit in the parked truck. I don’t talk, and neither does she. But she’s here, and that alone helps in some way I can’t really explain.
I’m not a man who gets nervous or feels uneasy. I’ve been trained not to show emotions besides anger. But right now … I am. This is the last time I’ll ever go into the house that belonged to Cami and me—the one where the nursery is still made, and all the pillows, paintings, curtains, and area rugs my wife picked out still remain.
My mom is going to clean the place out for me and relocate everything to a new home. And then it’s going up for sale. But first, I need to walk through and take anything that I don’t want to leave behind. A part of me feels like selling it is letting Cami and our daughter go, but it’s not like that. I could never live with another woman in a house that we bought together. But still, I feel the need to bring Briar here. To show her something that takes up so much of my heart and soul.
Briar’s hand cups mine, holding it tightly.
Finally, I crane my neck toward her. “Ready?”
My free hand takes hold of the handle, but before I can push the door open, her hand pulls me back, stopping me.
“Hudson, I don’t have to go in with you if you don’t feel right about it. I can wait in the truck while you go inside. Really.” She removes her hand from mine and brushes my hair away from my forehead. “I know it’s hard for you to come here. I don’t want to make it worse.” Her voice is a whisper now. “I also want you to take as much time as you need. I’m in no rush.”
“I promise, I want you here.” I swallow. “I need you here.”
“Okay,” she says, offering a tiny smile. “Then, right here is where I’ll be.”
We both get out of the truck and walk toward the house. Everything is how I left it the last time I stopped in. Well maintained and appearing like people actually live here.
Taking a few steps up the porch slowly, I push the key into the door. I don’t feel connected to this place anymore, and I know it’s because they aren’t here. This might have our things in it and stuff we accumulated and picked out together. But at the end of the day, they’re just items. And without Cami in it … this house is just a soulless box.
She was what made it home.
When I walk in, the same scent hits my nostrils that always causes that familiar pain in my chest. A scent that makes me feel like she’s so close that I could reach out and touch her. Only, the reality is, I can’t. It’s faint, but it’s there. Making this place even harder to be in.
Briar gives my hand a slight squeeze. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s okay to feel things. It’s all right to hurt. I promise, Hudson, I don’t ever want you to hide that you miss them. They are a part of what makes you, you.” Big tears swell in her beautiful eyes. “You can love them and miss them and still love me.”
Sometimes, I look at Briar and know that as messed up as it might sound to some people, she was sent here from above to bring me back to life. Because I think a big part of me died six years ago, right alongside my wife. And until Briar James came along, I wasn’t living anymore. I was going through the motions and nothing else.
I had given up. Because truthfully, I didn’t see the point in life after loss.
I pull in a breath. It hurts my chest, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to kill me. Not the way it usually does.
The pain I lug around with me every day, I know, will always be there. But at least now I don’t have to carry it all alone.
