Chapter Sixteen

^Six Months Later^

TRINITY

It’s been half a year since Stephen and I took that unforgettable holiday to Jamaica—a trip that marked the turning point in our relationship. From the moment we returned, everything between us deepened. He brought me into his world, and I haven’t looked back since.

He took me to his home, and there—away from the noise, away from the city—we cemented our feelings for one another. And we’ve been together ever since.

Everything had fallen into a beautiful rhythm. We’d found our groove—comfortable, passionate, secure. Stephen made such a genuine effort with the people in my life. Luke adored him, which meant everything to me, and he got on great with Matt and the rest of the crew. His own circle had embraced me, especially Mia, who I now considered one of my closest friends.

Not long after we returned from Jamaica, Clint proposed to Mia—of course she said yes. The two of them were fire and chaos, wrapped up in love. They fit together like lightning and thunder. And while their wedding was still four months away, we’d all been wrapped up in helping them plan the day of their dreams.

On top of that, work had been hectic. But no matter how busy life got, Stephen always carved out time just for the two of us. No distractions. Just him and me. Every day I spent with him felt like another layer of intimacy, another reason to fall harder.

The fact that Luke loved him—really loved him—meant more to me than I could say. Luke had always been my anchor, and for him to welcome Stephen into our circle so easily only made my heart cling tighter to the man I’d fallen in love with.

Last week, Stephen had to travel abroad for business. He wanted me to come with him—said we could sneak in a few extra days for ourselves—but I couldn’t take the time off work. Too many deadlines. Too many commitments.

Of course, in true Stephen fashion, he went full overprotective boyfriend. He had the guys checking in on me while he was gone, which I appreciated at first... until it felt like I had an entire security detail assigned to me. Random pop-ins. Multiple phone calls a day. One of them even brought me a coffee “just to make sure I was still alive.”

I knew Stephen meant well—his brand of love was intense, feral even—but we were going to need to have a gentle chat. I adored he cared so much, but I also needed him to understand that I could still survive without a full-blown manhunt being launched every time he left the country.

Stephen returned two days ago.

And while he said everything was fine, I knew better.

Something was off. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His touches lingered like they were searching for something. I could see it in the way he stared at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Something was chewing at him.

So tonight, it was my turn to take care of him.

I glanced at the time—7:30 p.m.

I knew Stephen well enough to know he’d already wrapped things up at Capulet, handed over to the night staff, and would be heading home soon.

I picked up my phone and dialled his number. It only rang three times before his voice greeted me—deep, rough, and warm.

“Hi doll,” he said. “I was just about to call you. I finished work and was thinking of grabbing something for dinner and heading over to your place.”

“That sounds good, babe,” I replied sweetly, “but do you think you could come straight here? We can sort dinner later. I’ve got a bit of a problem I really need your help with.”

Instant concern. His voice tensed. “Of course. I’m heading there now. What’s going on? Are you okay? What do you need? Talk to me, baby.”

God, he was already spiralling.

“Daddy, calm down,” I said with a teasing lilt in my voice. “What’s got you so riled up?”

“Nothing, babe,” he muttered. “You know how I get when it comes to you.”

I hear you, Stephen—but I don’t buy what you’re selling.

“I’ll let you go,” I said, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “You’re on your way now. Just come straight in. I desperately need your help.”

“What with?” he asked, still tense.

“Oh, you’ll see. I just sent it to your phone.”

There was a beat of silence, the telltale pause of him clicking through his screen. Then—

~Read.~

I watched the status change on my screen and grinned like a fox.

The photo I’d sent him was perfectly lit—taken in my full-length mirror, nothing but a black lace nightdress clinging to my curves. Sheer fabric hugged my body, the hem barely covering my ass, and just for him, I’d lifted it even higher. A glimpse. A tease. My lips slightly parted. Eyes dark with intent.

I imagined the image hitting his screen, saw the way his jaw would lock, the way his hand would clench the phone. I pictured his green eyes darkening with lust.

And sure enough, when he finally responded, his voice was low and wrecked.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me, Trinity.”

I smiled wickedly and replied, “Then you better hurry home, daddy. I need help... and I’d hate to be left waiting.”

I heard him clear his throat before his voice rumbled back through the line—low, strained, and so very ~Stephen~.

“Fuck! Doll, what are you doing to me? I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t move a single finger. This is definitely a problem I need to fix—personally.”

“Okay, baby,” I purred, biting back a grin. “I’ll be waiting.”

The growl that came down the line was feral, frustrated, and completely delicious. I ended the call and couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped. I knew exactly how to reel him in—and it was never about just the lingerie. It was about us.

I barely had time to straighten the sheer lace over my hips before I heard the front door swing open and Stephen’s voice calling out a quick hello to Luke.

Then heavy footfalls—rapid, purposeful—thundered up the stairs.

The moment he burst through the bedroom door, he locked it behind him, his green eyes scanning until they locked on me, stretched across the bed like a present he was about to unwrap.

“God, I missed you last week, doll.”

“I missed you too, baby,” I breathed. “Now come here.”

He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in three long strides and folded me into his arms like he couldn’t bear another second without my body pressed to his. But something in the way he held me this time felt different.

Not rushed.

Not frenzied.

This wasn’t his usual mix of passion and possessiveness—the kind I loved, the kind that drove me crazy.

No.

This was deeper. Raw. Vulnerable.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck and inhaled like my scent alone could calm the storm inside him. His hold on me tightened as if I was the only anchor he had left.

He didn’t need to say a word—I felt it. His walls were cracking, and tonight, he needed to be taken care of.

“Sit up, sweetheart,” I murmured gently.

He groaned quietly into my skin. “Mmm, but why? I love laying here holding you in my arms.”

I kissed his temple softly. “Let me take care of you tonight, Stephen. Sit up for me.”

Without another word, he obeyed, easing back against the headboard as I slipped his shirt off, followed by his trousers, leaving him in just his briefs—his sculpted chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths. My god. Even exhausted and quiet, he looked like sin incarnate.

I climbed into his lap, straddling him, and felt his fingers automatically grip my hips, like he couldn’t ~not~ touch me. But I reached for his hands, guiding them gently up above his head and holding them there with mine.

“Not tonight,” I whispered, lips brushing against his ear. “This is all about you. Let me look after you. Let me ease that weight I know you’re carrying.”

He exhaled like the air had been trapped inside him for days. His stubble scratched against my cheek as he nuzzled closer.

“How did I ever get so lucky to call you mine?” he whispered.

That was the moment my heart cracked open in full. Not from pain—but from the overwhelming rightness of it all.

I took my time with him.

I ran my hands across every inch of his skin, massaging his shoulders, his chest, the tense muscles of his thighs. I kissed the worry lines from his forehead and traced the hard edge of his jaw with my lips. I teased him, slowly and deliberately, letting my touch speak all the things I hadn’t yet found the words for.

His eyes never left mine. His hands stayed still, clenched in the sheets, letting me take the lead. It wasn’t about dominance or submission tonight. It was about connection.

It was about healing.

And when I finally made love to him, it was slow, deep, and soul-shattering. The kind of sex that wasn’t just about pleasure, but about emotion—the kind that branded you.

Our bodies moved as one, and every moan, every whisper, every stroke between us was a promise.

~You’re safe here. With me.~

When the first light of morning crept through the window, casting soft golden beams across our tangled bodies, I lay back against him, his arms wrapped around me, his chest pressed to my spine. We were both still trembling from the intensity of it—his lips at my temple, my fingers laced with his.

Was this what true love really felt like?

Because if it was…

Then I never wanted to wake up from it.