Page 96 of Perfect Pucking Orc

"I know."

She kissed him. It started gentle—soft and sweet and full of everything they'd built together. But it didn't stay gentle. It never did, with them. The gentleness caught fire somewhere in the middle, transforming into heat and hunger and the urgent need to be closer.

He growled against her mouth and lifted her without warning. She yelped, wrapping her legs around his waist. "A little notice would be?—"

"No."

He was already moving, carrying her through the apartment with the same determined efficiency he brought to everything. Past the living room with its colorful blankets and overgrown plants. Past the kitchen with its mismatched mugs hidden behind closed doors. Past her chaotic art studio that had once been a pristine guest bedroom.

Towards their bedroom. Their bed. Their life.

He set her down on the mattress and followed her down, covering her body with his. The weight of him was familiar now.

"I love you," he said again, like he couldn't stop saying it.

"I love you too." She pulled him closer. "Now stop talking and?—"

He kissed her before she could finish the sentence.

And then there was no more talking at all.

Later—muchlater—Edie lay sprawled across Tarmek's chest, listening to the steady thunder of his heartbeat.

The championship trophy sat on the dresser across the room. Moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the plants she'd crammed onto every available surface. Somewhere in the apartment, her boots were still blocking the entryway.

And she was home.

Not temporarily. Not conditionally. Not with one eye on the exit.

Home.

"You're thinking loudly," he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"I'm thinking about how I came to Greenwood Hollow expecting to stay for three weeks."

"You've been here more than eight months."

"I know." She traced patterns on his chest. "It’s the longest I've stayed anywhere since I left home at eighteen."

"Are you..." He hesitated. "Do you regret it?"

She lifted her head to look at him.

He pulled her up, repositioning her until they were face to face. His hand came up to brush hair from her eyes with impossible gentleness.

"Stay," he said. Not a question. Not a demand. Just a word, offered like a gift.

Edie smiled, thinking of boots in wrong places and mugs behind closed doors and a mural that held their story in its hidden details.

"I already am."