…
-CELINE POV-
:
52
55 vouchers
The ride back from the harbor was very quiet. Caesar was asleep in the backseat, holding the little sailor hat Hunter had bought for him.
His cheek was against the window, and his soft breathing made me feel something nice in my chest.
Hunter took my hand during the drive and didn’t let go. He gently rubbed my palm with his thumb, almost without thinking. But I noticed every little touch made my heart <b>race </b>and my chest feel tight.
When we got to the mansion, Caesar woke up. “Are we home?” His voice was groggy, soft.
“Yes, buddy. We’re home,” Hunter answered, ncing at him in the mirror. His tone was gentler <b>as </b>always.
The nanny was already waiting at the door. Caesar jumped out with surprising energy, rushing to show her the sailor hat like it were a treasure from the bottom of the sea.
Iughed, the sound slipping out before I realized it, but when I turned to follow them inside, Hunter’s hand caught my wrist.
“Not you,” he murmured.
I turned back, brows knitting. “What do you mean?”
He leaned close, his mouth almost brushing my ear. “He’s safe tonight. I want you to myself for a while.”
The words made my stomach flip looked into his eyes. They were dark and intense, just like I remembered. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t demanding either.
It was softer–something between a plea and a vow. Before I could respond, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk strip.
My brows rose. “Hunter…”
“Trust me?” His voice was low, careful, like he knew my heart was already racing.
I nodded slowly, letting him tie the strip around my eyes. Darkness wrapped me instantly, my senses sharpening. His hand slid into mine, firm and warm.
He led me carefully up the stairs, murmuring instructions so I didn’t stumble.
When he finally stopped, I heard the click of a door opening. He guided me in. The smell hit me first…vender and roses. The faint sound of soft music followed.
“Hunter, what….”
“Shh,” he whispered near my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek, waiting before tugging the silk free.
17:54 <b>Thu</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>25 </b>
…
The sight stole my breath.
<b>52 </b>
55 vouchers
Our bedroom was transformed. Candles twinkled from the dresser and bedside tables, their mes dancing. Petals scattered across the sheets. My favorite ylist hummed quietly in the background.
I turned toward him, stunned. “You… you did all this?”
He gave a half–smile. “I wanted to remind you that this room isn’t just about grief. It can be about us again.”
The words snuggled in my throat. My fingers tightened in the fabric of my zer, nerves pricking up my skin.
“Hunter… I don’t know if I’m ready.”
He stepped closer, stopping just short of touching me. His eyes searched mine, deep and unrelenting. “Then we don’t go any further. Not tonight. Not ever. This isn’t about rushing, Celine. It’s about us. Just us.”
Something in my chest broke. I didn’t realize tears had welled up until his thumb brushed one from my cheek.
“I miss you<b>,” </b>I whispered.
His jaw tightened as the words struck him hard. “I’ve been right here.”
“But not like this,” I said. My voice was trembling. “Not like us.”
He swallowed hard. Then, slowly, he lifted my hand and kissed it. Not hurried. Not hungry. Just reverent. Like he was afraid I would slip away if he wasn’t gentle enough.
He kissed my palm. My wrist. My shoulder. Every touch was counted, as if asking permission without words.
By the time his lips reached mine, my body was already leaning into him, my zer forgotten between us.
I should’ve hesitated. I should’ve thought about the effect of the past month, about the wound that still hadn’t closed inside me.
But when his mouth pressed softly against mine, when his hands framed my face like I was fragile and fierce all at once, all I could think about was how much I still wanted him.
The kiss deepened. My hands found his bare chest, warm and solid beneath my fingers. His heart thudded wildly under my palm<b>, </b>matching the beat in my own chest.
He broke the kiss, searching my face. “Are you sure?” I answered by pulling him back down to me.
What followed wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, unhurried, like rediscovering each other after being lost in a storm. His hands explored with patience, his lips tracing paths over my skin.
Every time he paused, I pulled him closer. Every time doubt flickered in my chest, his voice grounded me. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
When we finally <b>gave </b>inpletely, it wasn’t about desire. It was about forgiveness and two broken people
<b>17:54 </b>Thu<b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>25 </b>
trying to heal themselves through touch and quiet promises.
52
55 vouchers
When it was over, Iy with my head on his chest, tracing circles absently over his skin. The steady rise and fall of his breathing calmed me, anchored me.
“I thought I would never feel whole again,” I admitted quietly.
His arm tightened around me. “We’ll never forget what we lost. But we’ll make new memories, Celine. Brighter ones. Strong enough to carry both the pain and the love.”
Tears burned the back of my throat. I pressed my lips against his chest, right over his heartbeat. “I don’t deserve you.”
He huffed a quietugh, kissing the top of my head. “No, sweetheart. I don’t deserve you.”
The candles flickered and the music yed softly. For the first time in weeks, I felt my body rxpletely. My eyes grew heavy.
I drifted into sleep in his arms, cocooned in warmth and love.
***
***
Morning came softly. I blinked awake to pale light spilling through the curtains and the steady thump of Hunter’s heartbeat under my cheek.
His arm was heavy over my waist, his hand resting protectively against my stomach as if even in sleep he was afraid I might slip away.
For a long while I didn’t move.
I listened to his breathing, steady and even, and let myself sink into the warmth of his skin. Last night felt like something out of a dream…. fragile, surreal.
Part of me was terrified I would wake up and find it had been nothing more than my mind trying to soothe me. But then Hunter stirred, nuzzling into my hair with a sleepy groan, and I smiled against his chest.
“Morning<i>,</i>” I whispered.
He hummed, voice gravelly. “Mmm. Don’t get up yet.” His hold tightened as if he could anchor me to him.
“I wasn’t nning to,” I teased, though eventually my dder forced me to peel myself from his arms,
His hand brushed down my back as I slipped off the bed, his eyes cracking open just enough to watch me shuffle toward the bathroom in my robe.
By the time I returned, he was sitting up, hair a mess, looking entirely too good for someone who hadn’t shaved in days. His smile waszy but it lit something inside me,
“Stay home today,” he murmured.
I tilted my head. “And do what?”
17:55 <b>Thu</b>, <b>Sep </b><b>25 </b>
He smirked. “Me.” I threw a pillow at him,ughing when he caught it easily. <fnfe07> This content belongs to F?ndNovel</fnfe07>
<b>52 </b>
55 vouchers
The kitchen smelled like coffee when Caesar came in with the nanny. He jumped into myp, wearing his sailor hat, talking excitedly about boats and pirates until Hunter messed up his hair and gave him a te of pancakes.
Watching themugh and Hunter pretending to take bites from Caesar’s te made me feel really happy.
But the morning wasn’t all fun. After breakfast, Hunter carried arge stack of folders to the living room table.
“Kindergarten applications,” he announced, dropping them with a thud.
Caesar groaned. “Boring!” before darting off with his teddy.
Hunter and Iughed, then exchanged a nce that said ‘this <b>is </b>serious, though.’ We sat on the couch side by side, sorting through schools, brochures spread everywhere.
Hunter looked infuriatingly good in just a ck t–shirt that hugged his muscles and a pair of short pants.
I was in leggings and a baggy sweater that kept sliding off my shoulder, but the way his eyes remained on me made me feel like I was in silk.
“This one has a strong art program,” I said, holding up a glossy folder.
He took it, brows raised. “Already nning to make him follow in his mother’s footsteps?”
I nudged him with my knee. “Better than making him a miniature CEO before he can tie his shoces.”
He chuckled, flipping through. “Point taken.”
We spent the next hour making phone calls, looking at tuition costs, locations, and schedules. I saw him use the same charm and control on the phone that he used in meetings.
He spoke clearly and confidently. It made me smile to think that this strong man was here discussing snack choices at a kindergarten for our son.
He caught me staring. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t ‘nothing‘ me.” His voice was teasing, but his eyes narrowed yfully.
I shrugged, pretending to refocus on the papers. “Just… you look ridiculously serious about nap–time policies.”
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my car. “Everything concerning our son is serious.”
The heat that climbed up my neck had nothing to do with school. I swatted at him, but he only grinned,
smug.
Before I could retort, my phone buzzed on the table. Another application response. I mouthed the name of
the school to him<b>. </b>
17:55 <b>Thu</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>25 </b>
???? (52
55 vouchers
Hunter raised a finger as if to <b>say </b>‘hold on‘, quickly wrapping up his call with an assistant, then he set his phone aside and came back to me. But instead of picking up my phone for the details, he kissed me.
It was quick but warm, his lips firm and sure against mine. Then he pulled me into his arms, pressing me into his side like I belonged there and nowhere else.
I blinked at him, flustered. “What was that for?<b>” </b>
“For being mine,” he said simply.
I rolled my eyes, though my chest melted. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you love it.” His hand slid down my arm, twining our fingers together. His expression shifted, softening into something more vulnerable. “Come out with me tonight.”
I blinked. “Out? Like… a date?”
“Yes. Just us.” He said it like a vow, like a promise carved into stone. I raised a brow, teasing to mask the way my heart fluttered.
“Since when is Hunter Reid sweet?<b>” </b>
He smirked, leaning closer until our noses brushed. “Since his wife made him believe in second chances.”
My breath caught. He never used words lightly, not like that. I bit my lip, searching his face.
“And if I say no?” I teased.
He kissed me again, slower this time, his voice a whisper against my lips. “Then I’ll keep asking until you say yes.”
Iughed, unable to resist. “Fine. Yes.”
His grin spread wide, boyish and devastating. “Good answer.”
For the first time in weeks, I felt lighter. The sadness was still there, but it didn’t feel so heavy. Sitting with him, with papers and pens around us and his arm around me, I felt like we were starting to be ourselves again.
And tonight, I would let him take me out and remind me of all the reasons I had fallen in love with him in the first ce.