IT WAS PROBABLY only a few minutes later that Jo found herself in front of Snow’s door, but her time in the briefing room felt like hours and weighed on her like years. She’d offered to break the news to their leader, refusing to feel self-conscious when nobody was surprised. What was the point in that, after everything that had happened? Everything that was going to happen?

She wanted to see Snow. Even if just to tell him of their failure, she wanted to see him. She wanted to find solace in his presence and comfort in his arms. She wanted to hear words of hope spill from his lips and swallow them up with her own. So for the first time, led purely by that need, that fragile and terrified desire, Jo knocked on his door without hesitation.

And for the first time, as if knowing she would come, Snow opened the door at once.

As much as she wanted to look at him, touch him, fall into him until nothing of her was left, all Jo seemed able to do was stare at her own feet. They’d failed him. She’d failed him. Surely he was disappointed, maybe even angry. Why would he want to see her? Why would he want to see any of them now?

The sting of tears from earlier returned, Jo’s throat tightening enough that she had to clear it twice before she felt brave enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she said to her feet. “I. . . we tried.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing that burn to go away, for the pathetic grip this whole situation had on her throat to loosen. It took a moment, the pain still fresh (if not overwhelming), but eventually she felt confident enough that tears wouldn’t fall if she opened her eyes.

When she did, it was to find a pair of crisp, white dress shoes standing centimeters away from her own. She glanced up, breath hitching at the sight of Snow’s face, not looking down on her in shame or disgust, but in something soft and open and otherwise indescribable. Much like at the Rangers’ compound (a moment that now felt like it belonged to another lifetime), Snow raised a hand to her cheek, thumb dragging lightly across her cheekbone to catch the remnants of a stray tear.

“You did everything you could,” he affirmed, and his voice settled over her shoulders, into her chest, its own kind of comfort. A warm blanket to keep out the cold, a deep cave to wait out the storm. When he motioned for her to step inside, she did so with lighter steps than the ones that had brought her to his room only seconds ago. Or perhaps more accurately, steps heavier in a different way.

Snow closed the door behind her and stayed, waiting for her to come back to him, reclaim that space between them. So she did, nearly pressing against him from thigh to chest, arms wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer still. Her head fit perfectly beneath his chin, and as his arms returned the embrace, his breath brushing her hair, she let her ear rest against his chest. For a long moment, she did nothing more than listen to his heartbeat.

Suddenly, it was all she could do not to focus on the fragility of their situation, the creeping sensation that was quick to replace the timeless warmth of his comfort with a cold and pressing desperation not to lose this, not to lose him. It became clear—through some kind of evidence she wouldn’t have been able to provide, but nevertheless knew existed—that if they didn’t do this now, they never would. If they didn’t do something, say something, right now, neither of them would get another chance.

Something terrible was coming. Jo could feel it like a shadow, looming closer and closer as the sun split apart the sky. And when that something finally got here, who knew what it would mean?

For the Society. For the team. For them.

“Snow,” Jo whispered, pulling her ear away from his chest to look at him again, raising a hand to his face. Her fingers brushed lightly against his cheek before traveling to the back of his head, settling along the fine, silver hairs at the nape of his neck. Ever so slightly, she tugged him down. “Kiss me.”

He bowed easily to her will, arms tightening around her waist as he brushed a chaste kiss against her lips, then deepened it into something not chaste at all.

His tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened her mouth for him in obvious invitation. She wanted every inch of him, wanted to melt into him until they were one person, close enough as to be indeterminable from each other, unrecognizable to the world beyond. Then maybe, just maybe, she could forget for a little while. After all, working and running was all she could do now. And there was no more work left to be done.

As Jo moaned into the kiss, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt, she felt something slotting into place, a familiar yet wholly new sensation. Her chest ached and her eyes burned, but her heart sang with the feeling of rightness, of finally, finally being where she was supposed to be.

It felt like home, like love, something she’d never known but somehow instantly recognized.

“Please,” Jo gasped into his mouth, hearing her own voice on half-second delay. They hadn’t even done anything yet and she already sounded wrecked, felt wrecked. Snow pulled back just enough to see her face, though he remained as close as possible, as if desperate not to put any unnecessary space between them. It wasn’t until she saw the flush to his cheeks, the plush wetness of his lips, that she even realized how heavily she was breathing. Panting breaths whispered humid air between them; she felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He looked beautiful, she decided then. More beautiful than she’d ever seen him, and more beautiful than he had any right to be. His eyes were heavily lidded but still shining like moonlight beneath the fringe of his silver hair. And the way he looked at her. . . it did things to her heart that, were she not already outside of time and reality, would have probably left her worried for her health.

Snow raised a hand and ran gentle fingers through her hair when she didn’t answer right away. “Please what, my love?”

Ah. So he felt it too. Jo wasn’t sure if she felt more like laughing or crying. Both probably. But later. There were more important things that needed taking care of right now.

“Please take me to bed.” Jo tried for sultry, confident, but the heaviness of the day had left her emotionally exhausted, barely hanging on by a thread. The crack beneath her words, the undeniable shakiness to her tone, had her burying her face in Snow’s chest, face heating.

She was no stranger to sex, even Wayne could attest to that, but this? This cliff they were both standing on the edge of? This wasn’t sex. This was so, so much more than sex. This was something she couldn’t put a name to, something she wasn’t even sure she wanted to put a name to. All she knew was that it was important. And incredibly fragile.

“You have always had a place in my bed,” Snow said. “Then, now, and for as long as you want it.”

“Have I?” Jo whispered back, something about the words seeming odd, though unimportant in comparison to the meaning behind them. “I’ll always want it. I’ll always want you. You should know that by now.”

In lieu of a response, Snow leaned forward to recapture her lips, a deep and searing kiss that seemed to instantly return her to breathlessness. He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and she gasped, arching reflexively against him. As close as that left their bodies, there was no denying the already hard line of his arousal pressed between them. The realization of his own desire alone was enough to have her all but drowning in her own desperate need.

There were suddenly too many layers between them, her hands wandering the planes of his chest, the wiry muscle of his arms, his shoulders. Every spot of skin felt like it singed her fingertips, sparks of electricity running up her arms at the contact. As he walked her back towards the bed, never once breaking his fierce and persistent kiss, Jo tugged just as fiercely on his shirt.

When simply tugging the fabric up wasn’t enough for him to get the hint, Jo groaned, reluctantly pulling away. “Off,” she huffed, lifting the bottom of his shirt enough to afford herself a delicious view of his toned abs. He chuckled in response, though whether at her shameless staring or her eager demand, she wasn’t sure. Either way, he followed her order, which was all that mattered. Because within a handful of breaths, Snow was standing bare chested in front of her, a sight to behold.

Jo felt her mouth go dry, reaching out to place her hand against his chest, simply because she could. Snow’s heart beat quick and firm beneath her hand, and Jo couldn’t help but shudder at the rush of connection she felt—an unexpected intimacy when they hadn’t even been properly intimate yet. So, as not to get off track, Jo ran the tips of her fingers across one dusky, pink nipple, then the other, secretly thrilled when Snow took in a quiet breath as they hardened in response.

His hands were suddenly at her back, slowly inching the fabric of her hoodie up until his fingers could rub circles into the revealed stretch of skin. Just that simple touch alone had her eyes fluttering shut, her heart stuttering into a faster rhythm.

“May I?” Snow asked, lightly tugging on the material. Jo nodded, lifting her arms when he pulled both her hoodie and the shirt beneath up and over her head. A fresh heat crawled up her neck to settle in her cheeks as Snow’s gaze drifted lazily over her half-naked body. When he licked his lips, a seemingly unconscious motion, Jo felt the pang of her own arousal like a burst of adrenaline.

She took a step forward and placed her hand on the waistband of his trousers, only barely touching despite the obviousness of her intention. “May I?” she asked, a breathless request. She waited just long enough to see his head tilt forward in a nod before lowering herself to her knees.

When she looked up, it was to find Snow gazing down at her in equal parts surprise and dark, hungry desire. It was an expression Jo planned to memorize and treasure, her confidence bolstered and the heat between her legs growing at the sight.

She wanted to taste him, feel him heavy on her tongue. She wanted to make him moan around the syllables of her name and crumble beneath his own pleasure. In that moment, Jo couldn’t remember ever wanting something more.

Once his trousers were pooled around his feet, the thrill of what she was about to do took over, a fresh wave of need leading her almost involuntarily forward. She mouthed briefly at the obvious bulge beneath his boxers, dampening the fabric, before sliding her fingers beneath the waistband and pulling down.

There was the sound of her name, rough and desperate as it escaped past his lips, and then she was taking him in, swallowing him down as far as she could. Snow hissed, already breathing heavy, and when Jo looked up, cheeks hollowed and eyes dark with her own lust, she swore she felt the length of him twitch between her lips.

He looked sinful like this, coming apart at the seams yet still ethereal; even with his own lips bitten and parted in pleasure, he seemed otherworldly in his beauty. Jo couldn’t help the swell of pride at being the one who got to see him like this, got to be responsible for the hungry look in his eyes and the fingers tightening in the long, knotted strands of her hair.

Snow’s hips stuttered, not thrusting so much as desperately trying to hold himself back, and the need to watch him come, to swallow him down and milk every ounce of pleasure she could from him, was only outweighed by one thing.

She needed him inside of her. Now.

With a lewd sounding pop, Jo pulled away, panting softly against the spit-shiny head of him and admiring her job well done. When she got to her feet again, it wasn’t without a few good strokes along his now-throbbing length.

“I want you,” she confessed, leaning in to whisper the words as her teeth grazed the shell of his ear; she hoped he could hear every layer of those words, every facet of what she meant but didn’t say. I want you near me, I want you inside me, I want everything you’re willing to give me. I want you, I want you, I want you.

As if the words had spurned him on, Snow chased down her lips in another fierce kiss, tongue delving strong and wet against her own. They breathed each other’s heavy breaths, swallowed down each other’s desperate moans, and before Jo even really registered it, her knees were hitting the back of the bed.

When she settled back into the plush comforter, Snow followed, barely willing to leave an inch of space or single moment between them untouched. He kissed her until she was dizzy and begging, soft words strung together in a barely coherent jumble. All she knew was that she wanted him, so much, more than anyone she’d ever wanted before.

Somewhere in their passionate blur, Snow must have helped her remove the rest of her clothes, because the next moment of clarity was the feel of their naked bodies pressed flush. She could feel his erection between her thighs, not yet pushing in, but grinding against her wetness in subconscious impatience.

Well. She was impatient too.

So when he didn’t make the first move, she reached between them, captured his gaze, and guided him in. His eyes fluttering shut as he sheathed himself fully inside her was another expression she planned to commit to memory.

Not that her mental functions had any hope of continuing properly once he started to move. His first thrust had her gasping out his name, back arching off the bed as he filled her completely. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, locked her ankles at the small of his back. And when he picked up a rhythm, not fast and rough, but slow and deep and intimate, she swore she could feel every inch of him, sparks of pleasure building into a heat that would eventually set them both aflame.

This was so, so much more than scratching an itch.

Eventually his pace wasn’t enough, her whole body teetering on the edge of something mind-blowing without knowing how to topple over.

“Faster, Snow, please. . .” She half-moaned, half-whined, into his neck, lips brushing against his pulse. He obliged, making her cry out and cling harder, so close it was like riding a constant wave of pleasure that refused to crash.

But somehow, Snow seemed to know what to do, navigating that rising tide with a hand between them, fingers rubbing a quick rhythm between her thighs that had her whole body quaking. It was a rush of pleasure so profound, she swore she blipped out of existence for a second, her brain shutting off and rebooting under the pounding burst of pure ecstasy.

She might have screamed his name.

Even as she came down from her high, that same pleasure thrummed like a second skin beneath every inch of her, made only more prominent as she felt Snow’s thrusts lose rhythm, his hips stuttering in the aftermath of his own release.

He whispered something into her neck as he came, something she didn’t catch over the ringing her ears, but by the way he continued to hold her tight, she figured it was something good.

The echo of his climax rang through her ears as he breathed, his weight on top of her heavy as his breath. She trailed her fingers up his spine, to his shoulders, and back down to just above the firm curve of his rear. He seemed in no haste to move and she was in even less to push him away.

His fingers were the first to find life, tangling in her hair, catching the side of her face in gentle caresses. They unwound, releasing her as he pulled away. The fullness was quickly disappearing as he went soft within her. But they shared an unspoken agreement to savor every last moment of that connection, every tingling, shivering sensation that there was to be felt until the very last second.

When Snow finally lay beside her, Jo could feel the floaty high of post-orgasmic bliss starting to fade. But she didn’t want it to. She wasn’t ready for it to end, for any of it to end. So she curled up against Snow’s chest and closed her eyes, holding him just as tightly as he seemed determined to do to her. She felt his heart slow and listened to him catch his breath, and she pressed kisses against his collarbone, his shoulder, his jaw.

Neither of them spoke, too afraid of popping the bubble they’d managed to temporarily hide themselves inside. And when they eventually managed to drift off to sleep, it was to nothing more than the sound of each other’s breathing, and the millions of things neither of them could bring themselves to say.