"You Right" - Doja Cat, The Weekend

Baker's kiss was pleading after a bit of foreplay I was eager to engage in.

I missed him. And what he said, everything he'd done with his mother's money, his hopes and dreams for the future...

The backs of his knees nudged the bed, but before I could shove him on his back, he lifted my shirt, peeling it from my flesh with expert precision.

He'd changed. He'd grown so much in the last few months I'd hardly recognized him. Not physically obviously, he was still just as hot as I remembered, but he was different.

He'd built a home—had structured solid foundations for success. Drinking was a problem, but he'd managed to adapt. To strengthen the relationships around him to ensure he wouldn't collapse and learned new coping methods that he was comfortable with.

Baker had become the man I always knew he could be, and he'd done it for us.

Our kiss broke only for a moment before he cupped my jaw and devoured me once again.

I couldn't wait. Not with the growing throb between my legs. The pooling sensation of want nearly breaking me in two.

I needed him, which I made very clear when I tore the shirt from his chiselled torso and discarded it on the floor. Then straddled him when he'd finally fallen onto the navy blue comforter.

I ground against him—my tight-ass skirt bunching above the curve of my hips.

I needed it gone. I wanted nothing between Baker and me. I wanted to move on. To tear through time and burn everything that drove us apart. I wanted to start anew. To go back to the way things used to be. And I needed it done—now.

His calloused hands scraped the smooth skin of my thighs—my hips—as he followed my lead with a few slight thrusts that drove me to madness.

He relished in it—his internal hunger fueling my fire as it always had. And as always, he allowed me to set the bar. To take my time if I wished.

His fingers casually slipped beneath my tights; then under the string of the black lace thong I'd stepped into earlier before he cupped my ass with a full palm.

A moan escaped my slightly parted lips as he squeezed. One he enjoyed if his smile said anything.

God, I wanted Baker. So bad I hadn't given him time to remove his pants.

It didn't take him long to notice.

He crunched up—not breaking from our kiss till I was sitting straddled between him.

My hips continued. My body curving into Baker as my unbound hair cascaded down the curve of my spine and tickled the dimples on my low back.

There was nothing between us but burning flesh. Nothing but the tights. The skirt. The pants.

My frustration took hold, but as always, Baker smiled—his kiss slowing. "What's the rush? We have all night."

Emotions of every kind ran rampant through me: joy, sorrow, guilt, regret. And I paused, as if his statement struck me like a brick.

Baker's statement was so simple, and yet it cracked a sudden realization I hadn't noticed before.

Baker never rushed me. He always allowed me to set the pace so I could enjoy myself. Lord knew I was picky when it came to sex, a fact he was well aware of, but unlike Dallas, he enjoyed the challenge of getting me off. Then I realized everything was a rush with Dallas, our relationship, last-minute date nights and plans made with friends.

I swallowed hard as Baker tucked a strand of hair behind my ear—his eyes brimming with questions, but he wouldn't pry, and for that, I was grateful.

I'd never done anything I wasn't comfortable with when it came to Dallas, not that it was interesting. Dallas's schedule was busy, meaning our lovemaking was often rushed and—despite what I claimed in the back of the truck when I was drunk—a little unsatisfying. Not because it wasn't good. I had no qualms when it came to Dallas, but that hollow ache he left me with when he'd rush out of my apartment...

"I'm sorry," I breathed against his lips, unable to contain myself. "I shouldn't have left."

I'd let an entire year come between us. I'd erected walls I had no intention of lowering and forgotten about all the qualities that made Baker so wonderful while ignoring all the red flags that came with Dallas because I was angry, yes, but also because I was absolutely terrified.

My aching heart pounded against my ribcage. A reminder that it had shattered countless times, but the pain was nothing compared to that week he'd spent in the hospital. In a coma, I wasn't sure he'd wake from. "I thought," I started, my throat constricting. "If I could distance myself from you, it would make it easier."

"Would make what easier?" Baker asked, patient and kind.

The tears bled—streams of salt collecting in raindrops under my chin. My lip wobbled. My silent sobs overwhelming. "For the call, I expected every night after I left. The one that would tell me that you were dead." 

I couldn't contain myself. Baker had nearly broken me. A fact he was well aware of. But what I feared the most—what had me waking each night every time a notification came in or a drunken text from Dallas, was the sheer fear that Baker was gone.

Baker's nose grazed mine—his embrace full of protection and safety. "I'm here, Hadley," he said, repeating the same words he had at the lake. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He pulled, wiping away the rivers of tears from my eyes.

The urge to cry consumed. Maybe the reason I'd forgiven Dallas so many times was that deep down, I knew he couldn't hurt me as badly as Baker could. Because I loved Baker more than anyone should be allowed to love another.

Baker's smile was him in his purest form. Not a glimpse, but a full-on rendition of the man he used to be. The man he'd only ever allowed me to see. A softer side of Baker he hid from the world.

"I'm sorry too," he murmured, setting his brow on mine. "For every stupid fucking thing I did to you."

I kissed him, and I might have continued my assault—content to sit straddled in his lap the rest of the night and kiss him to my heart's content, had Baker not flipped me around.

I shrieked, then laughed as his playful nature burbled up from within, and Wolf leapt onto the bed, wanting to play.

The cool comfort of his blanket greeted my spine, and I smiled wholeheartedly as he eyed Wolf, who lowered just above my head.

Baker sent her back to her bed with a stern point before saying, "Hadley's mine tonight."

I was. I'd always been Baker's. From the night he'd split the soft flesh of Max's eye with his fist and confessed his feelings for me. And maybe, even before that.

He pinned me with his gaze. Hungry and reeling, waiting for me to give the okay.

The look in his eyes glinted with trouble. Trouble I was eager for and welcomed. "Do your worst, forty-four," I murmured coyly. And he did.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write this chapter but I've been dealing with a bout of depression. It's something I've struggled since I was a teenager but I've been leaning on my supports and doing the things I need to to feel better. I appreciate your patience.

The spiciest chapter I've written thus far is coming next so be on the look out for that. I'm both nervous and excited about it lol <3