Chapter 143: Ours

Chapter 143: Ours
Sophia’s POV

I had forgotten what this felt like.

Not the sex.

Not the intensity.

Not even the way he touched me, kissed me, claimed me like he had been starving for me all this time.

No—

I had forgotten what it felt like to be completely his.

To be held like I was precious.

To be looked at like I was the only thing that had ever mattered.

To be loved the way only Travis Cole knew how to love.

And fuck—

I never wanted to forget again.

His hands memorized me all over again, tracing every inch of skin, relearning my body like it was the most important thing he had ever touched.

His lips burned against mine, deep, slow, devastating, like he was trying to brand himself into my soul.

And fuck—

Maybe he already had.

Maybe he always had.

"Tell me you missed me," he murmured against my skin, his lips dragging down my throat, his breath hot, teasing.

I arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"You know I did," I whispered, my breath catching as his teeth grazed my collarbone.

"Say it," he demanded, his hands sliding lower, pressing into my hips, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

"Travis—"

"Say it, sweetheart."

I exhaled sharply, my fingers gripping his shoulders, my legs tightening around his waist.

"I missed you."

And fuck—

The way he looked at me after that?

Like I had just handed him the entire world?

It ruined me.

He took his time.

Slow.

Unforgiving.

Like he was making sure I felt every second of this.

Like he was making sure I never doubted what I meant to him.

Like he was making love to me, not just fucking me, not just claiming me, but showing me in every possible way that I was his.

And fuck—

I was.

I always had been.

The night blurred into kisses and whispers and desperate, aching touches.

Every time I thought we were done, he pulled me back in, his lips brushing against my temple, my shoulder, my stomach.

"I can’t stop touching you," he murmured, his fingers skimming down my spine, sending shivers through me.

"Then don’t," I whispered.

And fuck—

He didn’t.

It was hours later when I finally collapsed against him, my body wrecked, exhausted, satisfied in a way I hadn’t been in so long.

His arms wrapped around me, strong, steady, home.

I traced my fingers along his chest, my heart still racing, my body still thrumming from the way he had loved me all night.

He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering, pressing against my hair, my temple, my cheek.

And then, in the quiet, in the dark, with nothing but the sound of our breathing filling the space around us—

He whispered something that made my breath catch all over again.

"I’m going to marry the hell out of you, Sophia Moreau."

And fuck—

I couldn’t wait.