Jesus, he loved this woman. She saw into the heart of him and yet he’d almost lost it all because he was so scared.
“I love you, Hails. I pushed you away before I had you, then did again because I was scared.”
“Don’t do it again,” she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks in earnest. He wiped them away with his thumbs.
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you did,” she said honestly.
He snorted.
“Don’t do it again. You don’t get to push me away because you’re scared.”
He kissed her then, softly, with everything he had within himself. She kissed him back, and he fell that much more in love with her.
He pulled away and traced one finger down her side and under her breast. “Don’t hide from me either. I know you haven’t, but…”
“But I might. Because it’s scary. I know.” She kissed his chest. “I promise to be open.”
“I’ll never leave you again,” he said softly.
“I want to believe that,” she whispered. “So prove it to me, Sloane. Every day. Prove it to me.”
“Be with me. We’ve hidden everything else in the past, but I’m all me now. You’re all you. We’re bare. You got it? You’re mine. I fucked up, but I’m not doing it again. I’m going to have you every way I can and I’m not letting go.”
She smiled softly and nodded. “We’ve wasted too many years because we were scared. I’m not going to waste any more.”
He kissed her then, this time deeper. “I love you, Hails.”
“I love you, too. Oh, and happy Valentine’s Day.”
He frowned and thought about the day before letting out a rough chuckle. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”
She let the blanket fall from her fingers and he let out a groan. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at her fully before, but now he took her all in. When she licked her lips, he had to have her.
He crushed his mouth to hers even as she tugged on his shirt. Soon they were stripped down, pressing their bodies together as tightly as possible, hands roaming and grasping. He pulled out a condom from his discarded pants pocket and let her slide it over him. The act almost made him come, but he held strong. Barely. He moved her toward the front door and gripped her thighs.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you hard against a door since the first time,” he growled.
She bit his lip and opened for him. When he slid inside oh-so-slowly, they both moaned.
“Is it still fucking when we love each other? Or is it making love?” Her nails dug into his shoulder and he slowly pumped in and out of her.
“I know it’s making love when it’s slow.” He sped up. “When it’s going fast,”—he pounded into her—“when it’s me fucking you hard. It’s fucking, loving, and everything in between.”
She bit into her lip and rode him even as he fucked her into the door, their bodies sweat-slick and their moans rising. When her cunt clamped around him and her eyes darkened, he slammed into her, coming hard with her. He kissed her lips, his body shaking. She kissed him back.
“Love you, Hails. All of you.” He wrapped his arms around her, knowing he’d have to take them down to the floor soon before his legs gave out.
She nipped at his chin, her hands lazily skimming his back. “Love you, too, Sloane. You’re my broody, bearded, inked man. What more could I want?”
With her in his arms, in his heart, he knew the answer. Life. And she was it. He wouldn’t run from her anymore. He couldn’t. She’d seen the heart of him and hadn’t run, hadn’t shied away.
He’d been wrong before, but now he was all too right.
He had his life, his future in his arms.
He didn’t need anything else.
He’d found his future in the one person he’d hidden from.
He’d found his Hailey.
Epilogue
Hailey winced as the needle dug into her skin, but she didn’t call out. Tattoos were not for wimps, that was for sure. Yeah, the nice adrenaline rush that came from long-term sessions under the needle were nice, but hell, it hurt.
But it would be worth it in the end.
Plus, her tattoo artist was sexy as hell and pretty damn gentle, all things considered.
They were on the final session for her ink and she had the routine down by now. Sloane had curtained off his station so it was only the two of them, though she’d allowed Autumn, Maya, Callie, and even Austin to come in and look. The latter hadn’t made Sloane happy at first, but he’d relented. They’d wanted to make sure she had support during not only the long and painful sessions but also during the emotional waves that came with it.
Sloane wasn’t tattooing nipples on her skin.
He was tattooing memories.
With each new detail, she saw the strength she’d needed, saw the pain and agony she’d faced, saw the tears she’d let fall. It wasn’t easy to let the others see what had become of her chest, but they hadn’t treated her any differently. She wasn’t made of glass, but of hardcore power and woman.
And that she was okay with.
They’d embarked on a journey she hadn’t thought possible. She’d hidden her scars, her past from him, from the world, and yet now, everything was out in the open and she didn’t feel any less.