Tommy had long sworn by his mother’s memory that you were the sole tether keeping him grounded in a world that often threatened to unravel him. Every restless moment, his hands ached to brush against your skin, his lips craving the taste of you in every possible place.

Perhaps his greatest mistake had been the silence—the failure to lay bare his feelings from the very beginning, years ago, when fate first brought you into his orbit. Maybe, had he been honest then, you might have warmed to him in a way that time never allowed.

He had tried. Countless times, he’d attempted to break through your walls, to confess the storm raging inside him. But you had remained resolute—insisting your heart was elsewhere, pressing to be home before nightfall swallowed the streets.

To hell with waiting.

Last night was a fractured haze, memories blurred and tangled. When clarity finally returned, he knew there was no path backward.

You lay still in his bed, one wrist gently bound to the bedpost—a precaution born from fear, not cruelty. A tender bruise marked your forehead, a remnant of the moment he’d needed to silence the chaos. He had no desire to harm you, not truly—not yet. But anxiety gnawed at him. What if you reacted with defiance? What if your voice rose in rebellion instead of listening to the truth he begged you to hear?

No. He would face whatever came. As he always did. You had to understand—had to listen. Otherwise, everything could shatter. He couldn’t fathom life without you.

It was impossible.

He needed you.

As your eyes fluttered open, his breath caught. He lowered himself carefully to the edge of the bed, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, searching, pleading. Recognition softened his features, and at last, a fragile smile broke through.

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