I’ve thought about waking up beside this woman more times than I can count. Even dreamed about it one time. I was furious when I opened my eyes. Partly because it wasn’t real—a harsh taunting of what I would never have—but also a reminder of why it wouldn’t happen and the pain it caused. I clung onto the latter. I refused to acknowledge the heartache of missing her.

I had to remember she was the reason it all fell apart.

Except she wasn’t.

And now she’s here. In my bed and arms. In my life.

It’s why I need to do this right with her. I’m not risking it turning to ash or being another dream.

Remi’s quiet, but the craving coiling beneath the filmmaker’s skin is not. That hunger to capture.

“We booked a place for axe throwing on Wednesday,” I say. “They’re shutting it down for us, and there’s a bar and rage room where you break shit. Dev will be in Arizona, but Felix is coming, and probably Christian.”

“Why are you torturing me?” She has an adorable pout to her tone.

“Hmm, is it torture if I’m asking you to come with your camera?”

She lights up even in the semi-darkness when she smiles. “I guess not.”

Far too close to losing all willpower, I haul my ass out of the bed to get dressed. On my way out of the bathroom, I stop. The bedside lamp Remi switched on washes a soft glow over her. Auburn and black hair contrast the white linens. Her soft lips contrast her hard hold on me.

Detouring, I grab another shirt from my bag. She pushes up onto her elbow, watching me as I walk over.

I toss it at her. “Put it on.”

She looks at it and then at me, but when I cock a brow, she complies.

With a smirk, I duck down and kiss her. “Good girl.”

“You don’t want me to leave?” she asks.

“Never.” I stop at the door, hand on the handle. “Tell me you’re mine, Remi Sinner.”

“I’m yours.” She says it without hesitation, and I swear nothing has ever felt so right, settled me more. Not until she asks, “Are you mine, Foster West?”

“Always,” I answer, needing that to be true for both of us. “Everywhere and every second.”

When I walk out, I roll my eyes. Colt’s still in the center of the room, arms now crossed. He shakes his head, his focus on Remi through the open doorway as I gather my keycard and sunglasses.

“No one called this,” he deadpans. Then, “Seriously, lioness. We can find you someone better to hook up with than Adams.”

“She knows my real name, little bro.” I give him a condescending tap to the cheek as I pass and look in at Remi. “I’ll see you when I get back, baby.”