The room is silent save for the sound of Fitz breathing. His arms are wrapped possessively around me, his legs entangled with mine. I relish it. Every inhale and exhale, every chest hair that caresses my back. In my wildest dreams, I never thought this would happen. I've met strong, powerful men before; loved strong, powerful men before. But I never thought I would meet anyone like Fitz—strong, powerful, yet so honest and so…vulnerable. His confession on the bus rocked me to my core. I admitted to myself that I had feelings for him some time ago, and I dared to think he did for me. But never did I imagine his feelings were so potent. Never did I imagine a few hours later we would be lying in the same bed together, our bodies finally sated and still after making love. Never did I imagine I would cross such a sacred line.

When I touched his hand, though, I knew I was unlocking something deep inside myself, something that had been waiting to be set free. I wanted to be his lover. I wanted him to be on top of me, underneath me, inside me. I wanted his body to quiver, his lips to be raw, his skin to burn at my touch. But more than that, I wanted to take his anguish away, heal him, put the broken pieces back together. I wanted to give him hope. I wanted to be his hope.

And when he came, whispering "Liv" in pure, unadulterated ecstasy, I knew that I was. And I knew that he was mine.