He’s been pacing for five minutes now. Diary still open on your bed. Jaw clenched, chest rising and falling like he’s holding back a storm.

“You really wrote all that about him?” he mutters, voice low. “Talkin’ about feelin’ seen, feelin’ special, like I don’t show you that every damn day.”

“Corey, it was old,” you say softly, stepping closer. “Before you. Before any of this.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Still pissed me off.”

You reach out, just barely touch his arm, and that’s when it breaks. He grabs your wrist fast, pulling you flush against him, his voice a growl right against your lips.

“Don’t ever make me feel like I ain’t enough for you.”

You don’t even get a word out before his mouth crashes into yours. Rough. Hot. Possessive. Like he’s trying to erase every word you ever wrote about someone else. His hand slides to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist tight, pulling you in like he can’t get close enough.

“Say you’re mine,” he mutters between kisses. “Say it like you mean it.”

And you do..because there’s no air between you now. Just fire, lips colliding, hands in his hair, his hoodie bunched in your fists.