***
It was three in the morning when he arrived. She’d left the porch light on and the door unlocked and he tiptoed in, sliding off his shoes by the door so he wouldn’t wake anyone up. Claire was asleep on the couch, a blanket tangled at her feet. He went to pull it up to cover her and she stirred. When she saw who it was, she reached for him and pulled him down to her.
“Shh,” he whispered, fitting his body next to hers on the couch and hugging her closely. “Go back to sleep. I just wanted you to know that I’m here.”
She kissed him, and he felt the way he always did when she touched him. The long drive, the agony of waiting, all the uncertainty of these last few weeks vanished when he was in her arms.
“You’re home,” she murmured sleepily.
“I’m home,” he repeated.
“Don’t leave me.”
He kissed her lips, her jaw, that sensitive place on the side of her neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” she asked.
He brushed her hair back and pulled her tighter. “I love you, Claire. More than I know what to do with. More than I deserve.”
So he was going to take care of that love, to feed it and tend to it and watch it grow. He was never, ever going to be so stupid as to throw something so good away.
She threw a leg over his so they were pressed together, hip to hip, their bodies fitting together so perfectly he wondered how he’d ever survived so long without her.
Then his hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her tighter. The kiss intensified and he could feel her breath coming fast and hard as she ground her body against him.
“I need you,” she whimpered, sliding off his belt.
“I’m here,” he said again. He’d always be here. He’d always give her exactly what she needed. The fact that it was three a.m. and they were on the couch and he’d been driving since he left a roadside motel at dawn was so not a problem for his body right now.
He tugged down her pajama pants, kissing every new inch of skin he exposed. His tongue trailed from her bellybutton to her thighs, and then he stopped and looked up at her, beautiful and panting in the moonlight streaming through the living room window.
“Are you sure you want this?” he said.
“I need you,” she whimpered.
“I’m yours,” he promised her.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “I’m yours, Ryan, too,” she said. “Every inch of me. Please,” she begged as he traced his thumb over the wet fabric between her thighs.
And when he tasted her, teased her, felt her body writhing beneath him, her fingers threaded through his hair as she tried to stay quiet when she came, he knew with every fiber of his being that it was true. In all this time, they’d never stopped belonging to each other.
Although he’d never been certain about much in his life, he was sure they never would.
***
That’s the ending I originally wrote for Make Me Yours, before the epilogue. I like it! But I think the published version is better. :) It’s more emotional, it gives Maya a chance to reconnect with her dad again, and it shows us that Claire and Ryan’s HEA isn’t just about the two of them. It’s about becoming a family who loves each other.
What do you think?
Read the beginning here.
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