Page 173 of Wallflower

“Good, because no one’s going to love you for the things you’ve been hiding—except fucking me.”

Her soft smirk changes, shifting into a full-blown smile that shoots me like Cupid’s arrow, smack dab in the middle of the chest. “You love me?”

“Yes, I love you.”

The credits roll on the first of Ripley’s favourite movies, and a shiver quakes through me.

“Want anything before the next movie starts, bloodflower?” he asks from beneath me.

“Bloodflower?”

“Sounds slightly more dangerous than flower. I figured it suited you now that you have a few kills under your belt. Do you not like it?”

Turning slightly, I boop him on the nose with my finger. “I love it. Don’t stop calling me flower though, I like that too.”

“I’ll mix it up. Keep you on your toes.”

“Can’t wait.” I snuggle back down into his embrace, waiting for him to change the movie.

“So…” he lets the word hang in the air like a question.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want anything?”

I don’t want to move and break the comfortable position we’ve sunk into. The oversized recliner fits us both perfectly.

The come down from the adrenaline is exhausting though, and a chill has settled into my bones despite the blanket and his solid body against mine.

“Maybe a warm tea?” I reply, struggling to get up from the laid-back position.

Suddenly, the foot rest flips down, and Ripley shoots to his feet, cradling me against his chest. He turns on the spot, sitting me gently back into the plush black fabric. “You stay, I’ll be right back.”

“Kay.” I smile, watching his muscular back exit the room. His feet pad softly down the hall, and up the stairs. I listen as he moves into the kitchen above, filling the kettle with water, then moving through the house to the bedroom. Soft murmuring travels through the vents, but it’s not discernible as a fog settles over me.

The familiar theme music plays softly as I recount the last few hours. Something’s shifted between us, like a puzzle piece that’s finally found its place. It’s not just the love confession, something’s different—solidified.

His words rocked me to my core. I never thought I’d hear him utter them, and I was okay with that. If I never heard them again from this day forward, I’d survive. The memory of him whispering the words across my skin as we made love would be enough to sustain me.

Stepping between me and the cross, Ripley lifted me against him, sliding into me in one brutal thrust. Even now, the feel of him lingers, the curl of his fingers in my tender ass, moving me on him slow and deep.

I squirm in my seat, pulling the blanket up over my shoulders, as my cheeks heat. The aftercare’s almost just as good as the things leading up to it. The pampering, the cuddling, the praise. Shit, hearing how good I did despite his breakdown turned me to putty.

The kettle screams upstairs, pulling me from my thoughts. Sitting up, I rub my eyes, forcing myself to stay awake and enjoy whatever Ripley decides to bring me. Even if I’m sure I’ll hurl from one more bite.

“Rose,” a voice rasps my name.

I turn in the direction of the door, Chelsea standing like a ghost in the threshold.

I’m frozen. Stuck to this chair in terror that I’m fucking hallucinating.

She takes two steps forward, blue eyes welling with tears as her usually level voice cracks my name again.

I launch myself from the chair, nearly tripping on the blanket wrapped around me. Plowing into my sister, I wrap her in the tightest hug I can muster.

“You’re alive,” I sob against her navy tank top. Pulling back, I look up at her. Chelsea’s face glows with a bronze tan, body not frail, but healthy. “Where did you go? We’ve been looking for you for weeks!”

“Not now, we ha?—”