Joanne had thought that Jeffrey had forgotten her and started a new life with Heather. But he was doing everything, keeping her in mind and wanting a peaceful life with her.
"Heather’s working with Imperium," she said slowly, the pieces falling into place. "That’s why she’s been making such reckless decisions. She’s sabotaging Winchester Logistics from the inside..."
She thought she figured it all out and Jeffrey was keeping silent because he wanted a life with Heather, but the truth was entirely different.
Jeffrey nodded against her chest. "She wasn’t exactly thrilled when I figured out the truth about the child. I had to act like I still trusted her and let her believe she was in control."
Joanne’s breath caught.
"Wait..." she whispered. "You have a plan? All these problems at Winchester... they’re not problems at all?"
Jeffrey humd in response, his lips brushing the delicate curve of her collarbone. He eased her robe further down, slow and deliberate. Her breath hitched—not in protest, but in surrender. Her body softened beneath his touch, and with it, her guarded heart began to open again. Not because he was perfect, but because he was choosing her—deliberately, clearly, with a loyalty that went beyond words.
"I’m throwing them off," he murmured against her skin, the vibration sending a ripple through her. "Heather probably thinks I’m still angry enough to burn my grandfather’s legacy to the ground. She believes I’m careless. She’s wrong."
He scoffed lightly, the warmth of his breath teasing the nook of her neck. His hand, large and warm, cupped her shoulder, trailing slowly—reverently—down to the soft curve of her chest.
Joanne closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. His touch—so full of longing and restraint—spoke more than any apology ever could. She had missed him too, maybe more than she dared to admit.
"You don’t need here, then," she murmured, her voice quieter this ti. Maybe that explained Philip’s silence, his lack of confirmation when she’d made her suggestion.
Maybe...
Her eyes flew open. "Your grandfather knows!" she blurted, sitting up. "He knows what you’re planning!"
It hit her all at once—the way Philip had been noncommittal. The lack of resistance. He knew.
In that mont, she realized her robe had slipped entirely to her waist. She was naked in the dark, surrounded by nothing but shadows, heat, and his breath. She didn’t know how it got to it.
Was it the darkness? Was it her desire? No. It was love. It was trust. It was him.
Jeffrey lay sprawled on his stomach beside her, eyes half-lidded in the dark as he leaned up to press a kiss to her hand, then her wrist. A trail of soft kisses followed the inside of her arm—slow, worshipful.
One of his hands found the small of her back, warm and steady. The other rested gently on her belly, his thumb grazing her tender skin, inching higher, teasing, exploring. His touch ignited her, scattering her thoughts into the ether.
Joanne let out a trembling breath and sank back into the mattress, her body answering before her voice could.
What followed was slow at first, a eting of longing and heat, and nas whispered in the dark. But it didn’t stay gentle. Not for long. Months of ache, of tension, of withheld desire spilled over between them. He took her with fire and reverence, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or consu her whole.
And she let him.
Because she was done resisting.
Because this ti, she knew she could never be over him.
Jeffrey’s clothes were strewn across the room, forgotten casualties of the storm they’d beco. His chest rose and fell against hers, breath shallow and hot. He rested his weight on her, his head nestled against her shoulder as he caught his breath. Joanne’s fingers threaded lazily through his damp hair while his hand traced soft circles along her arm, his lips pressing quiet, reverent kisses against her skin as if he were still trying to morize her.
"How’s your case with Sam?" he murmured, voice gravelly, tender.
Joanne smiled. Even now—sated, exhausted—his concern spilled through in quiet, unwavering ways. "Not going well... for him," she said. "I’m not losing a single inch of my inheritance, Jeffrey. I’ll fight tooth and nail for what’s mine."
Jeffrey chuckled low, then tilted his head to press a kiss to her lips—soft, proud. "That’s my girl," he murmured against her mouth.
She grinned, ward by his breath fanning over her cheek. "That’s ."
Their mouths t again. Again. His kiss deepened, his hand finding the curve of her waist, gliding along her slick skin. Her fingers traced the lines of his back, the strength in it, the wear.
"I was thinking..." she said, voice trailing off between breaths. "Maybe I could give him sothing. Five acres of what I earned myself, perhaps? Sam says he’s trying to turn over a new leaf... and I do help so many people. Shouldn’t I help my own blood, too?"
Jeffrey’s lips moved to her chin as one of his hands cupped her breast, his thumb grazing her now-sensitive peak with a familiarity that made her breath stutter.
"You feel like you’re taking what’s his, don’t you?" he asked softly, not accusing, just understanding. "Because your grandfather left everything to you."
She hesitated. "That land was with the Smith n for generations. Then it ended up with ." Her voice dropped. "I hate admitting it, but yeah... a part of feels guilty."
Jeffrey exhaled deeply, pressing a kiss to her lips—slow, grounding.
"Dearest Jo," he said, voice low and sure. "You can give Sam whatever you want. But not now. Not until after the court case ends, not until the whole town sees—knows—that your grandfather gave it to you because he trusted you more than any of them. When Sam realizes his own grandfather bypassed him, not because he was tricked, but because he chose you... only then, if you still want to, give him sothing. Then it’ll be a gift, not a compromise."
Joanne sighed, threading her fingers through his hair again. "Why are you always right?"
He smiled against her skin, lips brushing just below her collarbone. Of course he was right. She could give what she earned to whover she chose—but her inheritance? That was sacred. That was legacy and trust. If she settled early, they’d spin a story she didn’t write; one where she manipulated her way into what rightfully belonged to the n.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
"See... this is why I need you..." she said. She needed him to ground her.
Jeffrey humd against her skin, his lips trailing lower. His tongue circled the peak of her breast—already swollen and sensitive from their earlier storm—and her back arched in answer. Her breath hitched, hands tightening in his hair.
Desire blood again. Swift and irrepressible.
They didn’t speak.
Words weren’t needed when everything between them now was raw and true.
And once more, they gave in to passion, to mory, to a love they had fought too long to deny.
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