“Fuuuck,” I groan, spilling myself inside her, feeling and hearing her orgasm push her over the edge as well, her hips flying over my cock, dragging out the pleasure until we’re both spent.

I roll to the side, my back to the mattress, and she curls into me, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers playing with the short hairs on my chest.

The quiet darkness of the night surrounds us as we both catch our breath. In this moment, with her curled up against me, her loose hair dancing across me, I know there’s no going back. This is all I want, all I’ll ever need, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her right here, next to me, in this house, growing old together.

I’ve hurt her once. I was a mere child when I broke up with her, acting like a petulant, immature asshole, overreacting and pushing her away when I needed her the most. Not again. Whatever comes our way, whatever we run into, I don’t want to push her away—I want to work through it together, as a couple, as an us.

Quietly, just above a whisper, I say, “I love you, Harper.”

She presses a kiss against my chest, then my jaw as she cups my cheek. “I love you too, Rogan.”

Three words I never thought she’d say to me, and for some reason, I’m lucky enough to hear them again. I don’t know how I earned her forgiveness, her acceptance, but I’ll take it and cherish it.

“Stay the night,” I say.

“My dad will worry about me.”

“Want me to call him to see if you can have a sleepover?”

She playfully swats my chest. “God, no. That would be humiliating.”

“What? It would be like back in sixth grade when we had sleepovers.”

“Yeah, when you didn’t know how to work your penis . . . plus, your haircut back then was such a turnoff.”

“I thought the Dumb and Dumber look was cool.”

She ruffles my hair. “It was terrible.”

I pull her in tighter. “You’re really going to go home?”

“Not right away, but yeah. I don’t want my dad thinking I’m easy.”

“Well . . . I mean, it wasn’t too hard getting you naked.”

“Because I planned it that way.” She kisses my chest and then props herself up, gazing down at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything, Harp.”

She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes skirt to the side. “Why did you keep your pants on? Are you scared to be naked around me?”

I can’t get anything past her.

Her beautiful hair falls over her face; I push it behind her ear. “I’m not scared. I just didn’t want to struggle.”

“Struggle how?”

“With taking off my pants. I guess I didn’t want anything to hinder my ability to make love to you. And I didn’t want to show you my flaws, remind you of the past. I wanted to show you how different I am.”

“I would have understood.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to be the guy who’s missing a leg in your eyes. I’ve worked hard to keep up my strength, to not show weakness, and I wasn’t about to when we finally got back together.”

“But don’t you realize? That’s a part of you now, Rogan. It’s what makes you so different, so special. You’ve been able to overcome the loss of a limb and beautifully excel in life. You haven’t let it hold you back from anything.” She threads her fingers through my hair. “The only thing holding you back is your head. It’s almost like . . . like . . . you’ve cast this curse on yourself.”

“Don’t say curse.” I chuckle. “That holds more weight than you know.”

“Oh.” She giggles. “The whole New Orleans thing?”

“Yeah, that.”

Quietly, she asks, “Do you believe in it? The curse?”

I twist a finger around her silky hair, playing with the soft strands and reveling in the feel of her naked body pressed up into mine. “When it all happened, I wasn’t sure. We were wasted, and I’m not sure how much was just in our heads . . . but what I do believe is I needed to grow up and realize my mistakes before I could truly find love again.”

“Find love again?”

“Yes, with you.” I kiss her temple. “It took me a while to accept the man I am today, and I’m still working on it. And it’s not that I’m sensitive about you seeing my leg; it’s that my leg is what broke us up. I don’t want to remind you of that.”

Softly she brushes her lips against mine before pulling away. “I think we need to face it in order to move on. I have guilt over it, you have guilt over it. If we want to move forward, we need to accept the past and everything that came with it.” She kisses my chest and moves down my body. She scoots down the bed and starts to shimmy my jeans down my thighs.

“Harper . . .” I breathe heavily, my skin prickling with nerves.

“Shhh.” She drags my pants down farther. She positions herself at my feet and pulls my jeans and boxer briefs all the way off, revealing my prosthetic. Her fingers glide over the pylon up to the socket. I can’t feel her touch, but I can imagine it, her soft fingers like tempting feathers gliding over my skin, enticing me, warming me up inside.

Eyes closed, I pause in this moment, soaking it up as Harper quietly heals our love with her understanding and apologetic heart. Though she has no reason to apologize, I know she needs to in order to start fresh.

Her touch lights up my skin when she reaches my thigh, circling a few beats. “I’m sorry,” she quietly says. “I’m sorry I dragged you to that party when I knew you didn’t want to go.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” I want her to know she holds no responsibility. “It was an accident, one you should never ever feel guilty about.”

She nods, a tear running down her face as she leans forward and presses a kiss on my thigh. My cock jolts upward, my arousal spiking. She moves down, raining small pecks of love over my skin, her hands cupping my leg, her tears streaking across my skin.

My own emotions start to bubble up in my chest: sorrow for the past, for everything we lost, and the pure relief of finally letting it go.

“I love you, Rogan. I never stopped, and I don’t think I ever will.” She moves back up my body, dragging her fingers over my abdomen, my cock throbbing for her attention, my heart thumping from her admission.

“I never stopped loving you, Harper. Even at my ugliest”—I cup her face—“I never stopped loving you.”

Guiding her toward me, I roll her to her back and hover above her body. She spreads her legs, and without even thinking twice about it, I slip inside her and slowly start to move in and out, my eyes trained on hers.

“You, me . . . this. It’s all I want, Harper. It’s all I need in life. I realized that the moment I left you.”

She runs her fingers through my hair, bringing my forehead to hers. “I don’t think I’ve taken a true breath until this moment, not since we broke up.” She sighs and closes her eyes before popping them open, gasping when I thrust all the way inside her. “Yes,” she moans. “Love me, Rogan. Love me.”

Trapping her face in my hands, I continue to move my hips, letting our yearning take over my pace as I pepper kisses along her face. Eyes, cheeks, forehead, nose, jaw . . . and then her lips. I get lost in her mouth, in the feel of her legs wrapping around me, in the soft sounds and pleas traveling between us.

The tension between us builds, the need to move faster takes over, and as I shoot my hips into hers, a wave of pure euphoria hits me all at once. My girl in my arms, our bodies pulsing against each other, love pouring from her touch . . . I could leave this earth right now and be the luckiest fucking man ever.

There is no way in hell I’m going to screw this up, not when I finally have my heart back.

“God, Rogan, yes . . . right . . . there.” Her legs clamp around me, and her orgasm hits her as she moans loudly into my shoulder. I’m right there with her, pleasure rocking my body and shooting straight into my cock. I still and release myself inside Harper.

“Jesus, fuck,” I mutter, lowering my forehead to hers again, a smile playing on my lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your dad to see if we can have a sleepover?”

She chuckles and cups my cheeks, pressing a deep kiss across my lips. “Positive.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

HARPER

“Do you want to talk about that giant smile on your face?” my dad says, coming up from behind me and placing a coffee in front of me.

Picking up the cup, I take a big swig and sigh as the hot liquid travels down the back of my throat.

Happy.

That’s all I can say—how else can I explain it?

I’m flat-out smiling like a fool, can’t-stop-the-cheery-music-in-my-head happy.

And it’s because of one man.

One week after my date at Rogan’s house, and I still can’t swipe the grin off my face. Maybe because it’s been one of the best weeks of my life. And not just because Rogan is back in my life but because I have my best friend back.