An Unexpected Twist
The morning light slipped through the blinds in thin bands across the bed.
I woke slowly, warm and comfortable, aware first of the weight of Amare behind me — his chest pressed to my back, his arm draped across my waist, his warmth wrapped around me. I shifted just enough to settle into him, his breathing steady behind my ear.
It felt good. Safe. The kind of quiet that only happened after a night like the one we’d just had.
I shifted slightly and felt his arm tighten around me in response.
“Morning,” his voice murmured, still rough with sleep.
“You’re awake,” I said softly.
“Just now.” His breath brushed my neck as he pressed a slow kiss there. “You move too much.”
I smiled into the pillow.
“Sorry.”
Instead of answering, he pulled me a little closer, his leg sliding over mine as he settled back into the mattress. I loved the way he held me, how good it felt to have him back home.
For a few seconds we just stayed like that.
“You hungry?” I asked eventually.
“Always.”
I turned slightly so I could see him. His dreads were slightly flattened on one side from sleep, a few falling forward as he looked at me, his eyes still half-lidded.
“Want one of my protein breakfasts?” I asked.
One eyebrow lifted.
“The one with eggs and everything else you think athletes should eat?”
“Exactly.”
He smiled, slow and easy. “Yes please!”
I slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before heading down the hall to the kitchen.
The house was quiet.
I started the coffee first, then pulled eggs and a few other things from the fridge. The rhythm of it felt comfortable, familiar.
A few minutes later I heard his footsteps in the hallway.
I glanced up just as Amare stepped into the kitchen, still barefoot, wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his bicep tightening with the motion, and I had to force my attention back to the pan before I just stood there watching him.
“Smells good already,” he said.
“Give it a minute,” I said, shifting my grip on the spatula as he moved in beside me. “Coffee’s doing the heavy lifting right now.”
For a moment neither of us said anything.
Then he glanced over at me again, expression thoughtful.
“I should probably tell you about something that came up in L.A.”
I didn’t look up right away. I was busy cracking eggs into the pan, the butter already starting to sizzle.
“Oh yeah?” I said lightly. “Another brand trying to steal you away from the others?”
Amare didn’t answer immediately.
That was what made me glance over.
He was still leaning against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching me in that quiet way he had when he was thinking through something.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just… something I’ve been mulling over for a few days.”
I slid the spatula under the eggs, flipping them carefully. “Sounds serious.”
“It might be.”
That made me turn fully toward him.
He didn’t look stressed. If anything, he looked thoughtful. Calm.
“They liked the shoots we did out there,” he said. “More than I expected. A couple of the brands I met with started talking about ways to raise my profile. Bigger campaigns. More exposure.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Nothing locked in yet,” he said. “But they think there could be real opportunities for me if I lean into it.”
“That sounds good,” I said automatically.
“It is,” he said.
Then he added, more carefully,
“But it would mean spending most of my time in California.”
The spatula stopped moving in my hand.
For a second I just stared at him.
“You’re moving?” I asked.
His brow creased slightly. “No, I didn’t say—”
“You just said California.” I snapped.
“I said they want me closer, Garrett.”
“Which means moving,” I cut in.
The kitchen suddenly felt too small.
“When were you planning to tell me this?” I asked.
“I’m telling you now.”
“After you decided?” I said, the words coming faster now. “After everything is already in motion?”
“Garrett—”
“And last night?” I went on, my voice rising before I could stop it. “What was that supposed to be?”
He frowned slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“You told me you loved me,” I said.
“I do.”
“And now you’re telling me you’re leaving.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“That’s exactly what you said.”
I could hear my own voice getting sharper, and I couldn’t seem to slow it down.
“So what was the plan?” I said. “You go build your life out there and I just… what? Stay here and applaud from a distance?”
“That’s not—”
“Or was last night more of a goodbye tour?” I asked bitterly.
The words were out before I could stop them.
My chest felt tight now, my thoughts racing ahead of anything Amare was actually saying. In the space of a few seconds my mind had already built his whole future without me in it — him in California with a new life that didn’t need me anymore.
Last night had felt like the beginning of something.
Now it suddenly felt like the end.
“Garrett.”
I kept going anyway.
“You fly back from L.A., tell me how much you love me, and then the next morning you drop that you’re moving across the continent. That’s a hell of a way to do it.”
“Garrett—”
“How long have you known about this?” I demanded. “When are you leaving me?”
He pushed himself off the counter and stepped toward me.
“Garrett. Stop.”
The word landed like a hand on my chest.
“I haven’t said ‘yes’ to anything.”
~~~~~~
For a moment, neither of us moved.
The kitchen felt strangely still.
I stood there at the stove, one hand resting on the counter. The pan was still on the burner. The eggs I’d started a few minutes earlier had stopped looking like breakfast and were starting to smell like burnt toast.
Behind me, Amare hadn’t moved.
I stared down at the pan for another second before reaching over and turning the burner off.
“You could have led with that…” I said.
My voice sounded flatter than I expected. The edge that had been there a minute earlier was easing, leaving me feeling deflated.
Amare didn’t answer right away.
When I finally turned around, he was still right there, arms loose at his sides, watching me.
“I was trying to,” he said. “It’s just… you were on a bit of a roll.”
I let out a short breath through my nose. “Right.”
The whole morning had gone sideways so quickly I just didn’t know what to do or say next.
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the last of the adrenaline still buzzing under my skin. “I need to go for a walk.”
Amare’s jaw flexed, the frustration there for just a second before he got it back under control. He didn’t want me leaving like this. I knew that much. But he also knew better than to try to stop me.
He nodded once. “Okay.”
That was it.
I turned and walked straight for the door, stepping outside without looking back.
The morning air was cooler than I expected.
I started down the street without really thinking about where I was going, my hands shoved into my pockets, my head still buzzing with the conversation in the kitchen.
Tenure track.
The words kept circling back.
The whole point of the last six years had been about stability. Laying the foundation for a career in academia. Publications, teaching evaluations, committees, conference panels. One careful step after another toward something steady.
Toward a stable, predictable life.
And now Amare was talking about leaving.
California. A special opportunity. A proposal that sounded more like a long-shot than a plan.
My brain started doing what it always did.
Running the options.
A leave of absence would be possible, maybe. Universities allowed it in certain circumstances. But it wasn’t simple. There were committees, approvals, questions about research continuity. The house would have to be rented. Finances reorganized. Everything that made my life feel orderly would have to be reassembled into something temporary.
Risk layered on uncertainty.
I turned the corner at the end of the block without really noticing.
The neighborhood was quiet this morning. A couple walking a dog passed on the opposite sidewalk.
My mind kept pushing through worst case scenarios.
Professional consequences and the awkwardness of explaining it to colleagues. Leaving a tenure-track position to follow my twenty-one-year-old boyfriend to Los Angeles so he could pursue a career in the fitness industry.
I’d spent years preparing for this. Years making careful choices, staying on a path that made sense.
And then I’d met Amare.
In a matter of months he had managed to inject a kind of unpredictable energy into my carefully ordered life, the sort of disruption I normally avoided without even thinking about it. And yet, without meaning to, my thoughts kept sliding back to him — to the kitchen, to the way he’d been standing there.
As I walked on, I remembered the weight of him behind me when I’d woken up, his arm draped across my waist, his breath against the back of my neck. The memory slowed my steps until I realized I’d been circling the same block, my pace slowing as the tension in my chest gradually eased.
A few months ago my life had looked very different — structured, predictable, safe. Now I was pacing around the block trying to decide whether I might uproot my life for a guy who had walked into it like a force of nature and rearranged half of it without even trying.
It should have felt insane.
Instead it felt… complicated.
I exhaled slowly, the truth settling somewhere deeper than the arguments I’d been rehearsing in my head.
The last few months with Amare had made my life feel fuller than it had in years. Not chaotic. Just vivid. Like everything in my life had been turned up a few notches.
I stood there for a moment, hands still in my pockets, watching a breeze stir the leaves in the trees lining the street.
Then I turned around and headed back toward home.
When I stepped inside again, the house was quiet.
I walked down the hall toward the kitchen, slowing as I reached the doorway. For a moment I stood there, taking in the familiar room and the man standing at the stove.
Amare hadn’t gotten dressed.
He was still in the charcoal boxer briefs he’d slipped on for breakfast, barefoot on the tile, his broad back turned slightly toward me as he slid scrambled eggs from a pan onto two plates. A second pan sat beside it, sausages browned and ready. The open window over the sink let in the fresh morning air.
He glanced over his shoulder when he heard me.
Our eyes met in that slightly awkward way that happens after you’ve had a fight with someone who matters to you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, gently.
His voice was steady, and despite everything, he sounded genuinely happy to see me.
“I’m better,” I said.
He nodded and turned back to the stove, finishing the eggs before carrying the plates to the table.
“Good timing,” he said easily. “Breakfast is ready.”
I stepped fully into the kitchen and pulled out the chair opposite him as he sat down. Up close, he looked relaxed, with his easy confidence in the way he occupied the space.
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally.
He looked up.
“Not for being surprised by your news,” I added. “But for the way I reacted,” I said. “That wasn’t fair.”
Amare held my gaze for a moment before nodding.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said.
Then the grin appeared.
“I was starting to think I’d have to eat both plates myself.”
I giggled softly and some of the tightness in my chest eased as I reached for my fork.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s talk about this.”
Amare took a bite of eggs. “You want the short version or the long one?”
“Start with the short one.”
He set his fork down and leaned back slightly in his chair.
“The agency that approached me after the Vancouver show,” he said. “They’re one of the big athlete management firms. They represent a lot of fitness guys and bodybuilders.”
“Representation?” I asked.
“Exclusive.”
I frowned slightly as I processed that.
“They handle brand deals, appearances, supplement companies, all that,” he continued. “They think I can go a lot further with the right exposure.”
I studied him for a moment.
“And what aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “They’re offering a signing bonus.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred.”
I blinked. “Two hundred thousand.”
For a moment I just stared at him.
“And they’re guaranteeing at least two-fifty in bookings the first year,” he said.
I sat there blinking, doing the math. “That’s… four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
He nodded once.
The number hung in the air between us, while the calculations continued. “In one year… you’d make more than three times what I will.”
Amare watched me quietly for a moment before standing and walking back toward the stove to scrape the last of the eggs from the pan onto his plate.
“I didn’t realize there was that much money to be made in the fitness industry,” I said.
He shrugged lightly. “Not for most people.”
He leaned back against the counter, plate in one hand. “Agencies don’t put that kind of money behind someone unless they know exactly what they’re buying.”
My eyes dragged over him before I could stop them. Bare chest. Thick shoulders. The defined sweep of his abs disappearing into the waistband of his briefs. He was standing in my kitchen looking like the answer to his own argument.
One eyebrow lifted slightly.
“They’re betting on me,” he said, matter-of-fact.
His gaze dropped briefly, taking himself in the way I had, then came back to me, the corner of his mouth tipped up.
“That look in your eyes just now tells me you get it.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck.
For a moment I just stood there watching him in the morning light. I found myself nodding slowly. There was no point pretending otherwise. The agency wasn’t gambling. They were simply recognizing something that had been obvious to me for months.
“Still… that’s one hell of a bet,” I said.
He held my eyes for a second. “I’m not planning on wasting it.”
I leaned back in my chair, still trying to process the figures.
“And what happens if the hype fades?” I asked. “Three years go by, the contract ends, and suddenly the next muscle phenom is getting all the attention.”
The corner of his mouth lifted at that, but his answer came easy. “Then I pivot,” he said. “Start something else.”
“You say that like it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he said. “But it’s not the end of the world either.”
I studied him for another moment. “You sound very sure of yourself.”
He met my eyes without hesitation. “I am.”
The confidence in his voice wasn’t arrogance. It was simply how he saw himself making this opportunity his.
Silence settled between us again.
Finally I exhaled slowly. “And walking away from everything here isn’t simple.”
He nodded.
“You’re being very calm about all of this.”
“I’ve had more time to think about it than you.”
That was true.
He set his plate down and walked back toward the table, stopping beside my chair.
“I’m not asking you to throw away your life, Garrett,” he said quietly.
His hand settled lightly on my shoulder. “I know what you’ve built here.”
I looked up at him.
“This could be big,” he continued. “But it’s still a risk.”
He paused for a moment. “I want to do it.”
Then he added more softly, “But I want to do it with you.”
Somehow that mattered more than the numbers had.
I looked down at the table for a moment, half expecting the objections I’d been rehearsing during my walk to come rushing back. The arguments about risk. About timing. About how absurd the whole thing sounded when you said it out loud.
But they didn’t.
What came instead were the practical solutions I’d been turning over in my head.
“I could apply for a leave,” I said slowly.
Amare didn’t interrupt.
“And if that works,” I continued, “we rent out the house for a year.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“And we see where things are after that.”
A small smile appeared. “That sounds like a plan.”
I shook my head slightly. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
Amare’s thumb brushed lightly against the side of my neck.
“We can do this. We’ll make smart decisions. And if something stops making sense, we adjust.”
The way he was touching me made it hard to hold onto my objections.
I let out a quiet breath. “I should never have let this conversation happen with you standing there like that.”
A quiet laugh slipped out of him. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
But when his hand slid lightly to the center of my chest, his expression settled again.
“This isn’t just about an opportunity,” he said. His gaze held mine. “It’s about the life we could build… together.”
I looked up at him. “If we’re really doing this,” I said, searching for the right words, “we need to talk seriously about what our life looks like while you’re chasing your dream.”
He studied me for a moment, and nodded once. “I want to figure that out with you.”
There was nothing casual in the way he said it. He sounded ready.
~~~~~~
Our last night in town arrived faster than I expected.
For weeks everything had felt abstract, paperwork, emails, contracts, lease agreements, the kind of administrivia that kept me busy enough not to think too hard about what any of it actually meant.
But now, the house was rented and our suitcases were packed. Tomorrow morning we were getting on a plane.
Amare had insisted that our last night feel different, so he booked us a room downtown.
After leaving the house, we started the evening with dinner at a small restaurant near the river, one of those places we’d ended up choosing so often it had quietly become ours. The staff recognized us as soon as we walked in.
“Last night for a while?” the owner asked as we sat down.
Amare glanced over at me, then back at him, a small smile settling in.
“Yeah,” he said. “Heading west.”
The owner nodded. “Good luck to you. Wine’s on the house tonight.”
Word had spread through our circle quickly once the move became real. Over the past few weeks there had been dinners with friends, drinks with colleagues, a chaotic backyard party my sister insisted on throwing that somehow turned into a three-hour debate about California weather and whether I was going to start surfing.
But tonight it was just the two of us.
After dinner we didn’t head straight back to the hotel. We walked instead.
The city felt different knowing we were leaving it. Corners I usually passed without noticing seemed to hold their shape a little longer, as if my brain had suddenly decided to memorize everything.
We passed the university campus first, and I slowed when we reached the edge of the quad.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Amare said beside me.
“What thing?”
“Looking like you’re writing a memoir in your head.”
I laughed. “Am I that obvious?”
He only chuckled knowingly.
I looked up at one of the older buildings where I’d studied for years and started teaching last semester.
“I’ve spent most of my adult life here,” I said.
Amare slipped his hand into mine as we kept walking, the gesture so easy and familiar it steadied something inside me.
We made our way toward the river path, water catching the skyline in broken ribbons of light. The air had cooled enough that I was glad for my jacket.
For a while neither of us spoke as we made our way back to the hotel.
I wasn’t really paying attention to what button Amare pushed when we stepped into the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors opened directly into a massive living space that I realized what he’d done.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the entire far wall, the skyline glowing beyond them, lights scattered through the dark like a field of stars.
I stopped dead.
“This is ridiculous,” I said quietly.
Amare shrugged lightly beside me. “Our last night here for a while.”
I moved instinctively toward the glass, staring out over the city.
To my right, I heard the sliding door open and felt cool air drift into the room. When I turned, Amare was stepping out onto the terrace, and I followed him.
The city spread wide below us. In the far corner of the terrace, steam rose softly into the night from a square hot tub. A bottle of champagne sat waiting on ice beside a pair of glasses.
I looked back at him. “You absolutely planned this.”
Amare stood there leaning against a lounger, looking very pleased with himself. “I thought you might like it.”
I giggled at the sheer decadence of it.
Amare crossed to the table, pulled the bottle free from the ice bucket, and twisted the cork loose with a sharp pop. He filled both glasses before handing one to me.
Together we moved toward the railing. The terrace lights were low, leaving the skyline to do most of the work. I rested my forearms against the glass and looked out over the city, and for the first time all evening the weight of everything settled fully into place.
As I looked over at Amare, I reminded myself he had always been hard to ignore. Even standing still, he pulled my attention. It was the sheer physicality of his presence and the relaxed confidence in the way he carried himself. Tonight, beneath the soft terrace lights with the city glowing beyond him, he looked stunning.
I set my glass down on the railing, a grin forming.
“You realize your hotness is becoming a serious issue for me.”
He laughed softly. “That’s a new complaint.”
I went to him, slid my hands over his chest, feeling the familiar firmness of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
“I’m serious,” I said. “You keep standing there looking like that, and I just keep falling harder for you.”
“Falling harder?”
I nodded. “Completely.”
Something warmer settled across his face then.
When he kissed me, it was slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world fall quietly away.
When we finally pulled back, he nodded toward the hot tub.
“Come on.”
Amare set his champagne glass on the table beside the tub and looked over at me, his hand moving to the hem of his shirt. He pulled it off in one smooth motion.
“I feel like this should be a clothing-free zone,” he said.
I laughed. “Based on what authority?”
He didn’t answer.
He just slipped his pants down and stepped out of them, completely at ease, then stood there for a second, watching me.
I couldn’t look away.
I’d spent months around him, and it still hit me every time, the way he could make me stop and stare without even trying.
Then he climbed into the water, settling back against the far corner.
I shook my head and started to undress. “You are impossible.”
“And yet,” he said easily, “you’re taking your clothes off.”
By the time I slid into the water beside him, the warmth wrapped around me, easing through my shoulders, loosening the tension in my back until my whole body started to relax.
“This is incredible,” I said.
Amare leaned back against the corner of the tub, one arm stretched along the edge.
He looked even bigger in the water somehow, his shoulders rounded and solid in the soft light, chest slick where the water lapped against his skin.
I shifted closer until our knees brushed beneath the surface.
For a while we just talked.
About the past few months. The chaos of packing. The absurd number of goodbye dinners. My mother’s emotional speech during the family party.
Eventually the conversation thinned out and gave way to something quieter.
I glanced over at him. “I’ve never done this before.”
Amare glanced over. “Sat in a hot tub?”
“Not that part.”
His smile deepened.
“Well,” he said quietly, “we should fix that.”
He leaned toward me, his arm pulling me toward him till I was in his lap, straddling his waist. As he looked into my eyes, I could already feel his arousal, pressing against me.
Amare’s hand slid behind my neck and then he planted his lips on mine.
The force of his kiss pulled the air straight from my lungs, his mouth warm and insistent against mine as the water shifted around us. My hand caught at his shoulder, fingers pressing into slick muscle while his other arm wrapped firmly around my waist and drew me closer until I was fully against him.
His kiss drew a lustful gasp from me.
Everything about him felt overwhelming tonight. The swell of his chest, the rise of his traps, the fullness of his arms and shoulders. The heat of his skin somehow warmer than the water around us. The certainty in the way he held me, like loving me had become second nature to him.
When the kiss finally broke, I was breathing harder.
“That,” I said faintly, “was hot!”
His smile was slow and devastating.
“I want you,” he said, low and hungry.
He rolled his hips forward, the heavy slide of him between my cheeks making my breath catch. Anticipation hit hard enough that I shuddered.
Our eyes locked.
“Fuck me… now,” I gasped.
Love didn’t quiet our hunger. It made every part of it burn hotter.
He shifted me into position, hardon pressing against me until my breath caught. I started to lower myself with a broken moan, chasing the stretch, both hands gripping his muscular shoulders as I tried to take more of him, wanting all of it.
Instead, Amare stopped me.
His hands locked firmly around my hips, holding me suspended there with just enough of him inside to make the tension almost unbearable, my body straining for more. Heat flashed through me at the way his eyes stayed fixed on mine while that slow grin spread across his face.
“I’ll take it from here.”
Amare guided me down slowly, holding my hips steady as he pushed deeper, until I was sitting on him, and I felt his full length inside me. My breath caught, my body tightening around him as the stretch gave way to something fuller, more consuming.
He didn’t look away.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment all day,” he said, his voice low and steady.
His hands stayed firm at my hips, anchoring me there while I adjusted, while the heat of him and the slow pulse of his body against mine made it impossible to think clearly.
Then he lifted me slightly, just enough that the loss of him pulled a frustrated sound from my throat, his hips rolling back until it felt like he might pull away completely. The pause lingered for half a second too long.
Then he drove me back down.
The motion was controlled but powerful, his hips rolling forward as he filled me again in one smooth thrust, the force of it pulling a sharp gasp from my mouth as my hand caught at his arm.
“Oh, fuck… Amare,” I breathed.
He didn’t slow down. If anything, the rhythm deepened, each thrust harder now, more deliberate, like he was chasing something just as much as I was. I could feel it building in him, in the way his breath started to break, in the way his hands tightened at my hips as he pulled me down onto him.
The way he fucked me had me lit up, he knew just how to push me to the edge, sensations sharp and disorienting, pulling tight through my whole body. A strained moan slipped out of me, louder than I meant it to be, my grip tightening on his shoulders as my body reacted without restraint, chasing the feeling, trying to take more of him, even when it already felt like too much.
And he held me there.
Not easing up. Not rushing it. Just driving into me with a steady, deliberate rhythm, adjusting just enough to keep me right where my body started to lose control. He knew exactly what he was doing, how far to push, how long to hold me there before giving me more.
He was setting the pace now, keeping me balanced on that edge.
And I was coming apart under it.
A sound tore out of me before I could stop it, louder than anything I’d let slip all night. My grip tightened on his shoulders, my body reacting without restraint now, meeting every thrust, chasing the next one before it even came.
“Amare—” I gasped, barely holding it together.
His eyes stayed locked on mine.
That only made it worse.
The water shifted around us, soft and constant, but everything inside me felt sharp, electric, too much and not enough at the same time. Every movement of his pulled another gasp from my throat, each one rougher, less controlled than the last.
I was fully hard between us now, dragging against his abs every time he drove up into me. The sensation pulled another desperate moan out of me, my grip tightening as I pressed closer without thinking, needing more of him, more of everything.
He pulled me in tighter, one hand sliding into my hair, holding me there as his rhythm stayed strong and unrelenting, each movement landing exactly where it hit hardest.
“Stay with me,” he said, but there was tension in it now.
“I am,” I managed, breathless, already breaking.
My forehead dropped to his, our breaths colliding, my mouth parting as another moan slipped free.
I could feel it in the way he shifted, finding the exact angle to take me, everything pulling tighter inside me until it felt like I couldn’t hold on anymore.
“Amare—I’m—”
He kissed me again. Hard.
It cut the rest of the words off, his mouth claiming mine as everything finally broke loose, the sound I made lost against him as I clung to him, my whole body giving in at once.
He followed with me.
I felt it in the way he held me tighter, his grip firming at my hips as he drove into me one more time, deep enough to pull a broken sound from my throat. His body tensed under my hands, muscles tightening, holding me there as his movement stuttered for a second before a deep pulse passed between us, then another, our kiss turning rough, another pulse, hungry and desperate, before easing into something slower as we started coming down from his release.
For a few seconds neither of us moved.
We stayed locked together, breathing into each other, my hands still gripping him like I needed the contact to come back down.
Slowly, the tension eased.
I stayed right there, forehead pressed to his, chest rising and falling hard against his, my body still humming, still trying to catch up to what he’d just done to me.
“I love you,” I said, the words slipping out on a shaky breath.
Amare leaned back just enough to look at me.
Something shifted in his expression, warmer now, deeper than the heat that had been there a moment ago.
“I know,” he said softly. Then, after a beat, “I love you too.”
I let out a breath and leaned back into him. Amare was still inside me, his hands settled more loosely at my hips now as the last of the tension faded. Our breathing stayed heavy, uneven, his chest rising against mine.
For a while, neither of us moved.
The water lapped quietly around us. The city stretched out beyond the terrace.
Tomorrow everything would change.
Looking into his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my hands, it didn’t feel frightening anymore.
A few minutes later we were standing on the terrace again, the night air cooler now against my skin as Amare wrapped a towel around my shoulders. He pulled me in for another kiss, slower this time, but no less certain, his hand settling at the back of my neck like he wasn’t quite done with me yet.
He didn’t say anything when he stepped back.
He just took the towel from my shoulders.
The look he gave me was enough.
I let out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a warning, but it didn’t slow him down. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me in before I could say anything else, and then I was off my feet, his arms tightening around me, and then I was off my feet, his arms locking in, muscle tightening under my hands as he lifted me like I weighed nothing.
“Amare—” I started, but there wasn’t much behind it.
He carried me inside.
The curtains were still open, the skyline stretching wide across the room, the lights casting a soft glow over the bed as he crossed the space without hesitation.
“This place isn’t done with us yet,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.
He set me down on the mattress, but didn’t give me much time to settle before he was over me again, his hands already finding me, his mouth following a second later.
I laughed softly into the kiss, the sound breaking as he deepened it, pulling me back into him.
We weren’t done yet.
~ The End ~
Author's note: Thank you for reading. This marks the end of Amare and Garrett's journey.
A special thanks to everyone who voted and left comments. Your feedback makes this all worthwhile.
Feel free to leave suggestions in the comments for future story ideas.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
