Chapter 9
Steph
The drive back to my apartment feels like the longest five minutes of my life.
Kevin's hand wraps around mine across the console, his thumb tracing slow circles on my palm, sending heat spiraling through my entire body.
Every time I glance over at him, I find him taking quick looks at me, taking his eyes off the road for a second, but his gaze has such an intensity that it makes my breath catch.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice rough.
"Nervous," I admit. "But good nervous. Excited nervous."
His hand tightens on mine. "We don't have to—"
"I want to," I interrupt. "I want you. I'm just..." I trail off, trying to find the words. "It's been a long time since I wanted someone like this. Since I felt safe enough to want someone like this."
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "You set the pace, Steph. Whatever you need. However long it takes."
The reassurance settles something in my chest. With Kevin, I'm not just wanted—I'm safe. And that makes all the difference.
When we pull up to my building, he comes around to open my door. His hand finds the small of my back as we climb the stairs, warm and steady, and I'm hyperaware of every point of contact between us.
My hands shake as I unlock the door.
We step inside, and Kevin closes the door behind us, turning the lock with a soft click.
For a moment, we just stand there in my tiny living room, looking at each other.
"Steph," he says quietly. "I need you to know—this isn't just about wanting you. Though God knows I do." His eyes are dark and intense. "I'm in love with you. Have been for months. And whatever happens tonight, that doesn't change. You’re the woman for me. My person."
My heart stumbles over itself. His person? The woman for him? All of it feels so right. For the first time, I don’t feel trapped by my emotions. I’m safe and I always will be. "I love you too," I whisper. "I think I have for a while now. Just too scared to admit it."
"You don't have to be scared," he says, crossing to me. "Not with me. Never with me."
He cups my face in both hands, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you need."
"I need you to kiss me," I breathe. "And then I need you not to stop."
His mouth comes down on mine, and it's nothing like the kiss in the truck. That was desperate, urgent, months of pent-up wanting breaking free.
This is different. Slower. Deliberate.
He kisses me like he has all the time in the world. Like he wants to memorize every sound I make, every place that makes me gasp. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I melt into him.
I fist my hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more. My back hits the wall—when did we move?—and Kevin's body presses against mine, solid and warm and right.
"Is this okay?" he murmurs against my mouth.
"More than okay," I manage.
His hands slide down to my waist, then lower, gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him. I can feel how much he wants me, and the knowledge sends heat pooling low in my belly.
I arch into him, and he makes a rough sound in the back of his throat that goes straight through me.
"Bedroom," I gasp between kisses. "Kevin, I need—"
"Tell me." His mouth moves to my jaw, my neck, finding all the sensitive places that make me shiver. "Tell me what you need, sweetheart."
"You," I breathe. "Just you."
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine. "You're sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
That's all it takes. Kevin's hands slide down to the backs of my thighs, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, and he carries me toward the bedroom.
He kisses me the whole way—slow, deep kisses that make my head spin and my body ache with want.
When we reach my bed, he sets me down on the edge of the mattress. I expect him to follow me down, but he kneels in front of me instead, his hands on my knees.
"I want to take my time with you," he says, his voice rough.
"I want to learn every inch of you. Every sound you make.
Every place that makes you feel good." His hands slide up my thighs, and I shiver.
"But I need you to tell me if something doesn't feel right.
If you need me to slow down or stop. Can you do that for me? "
The care in his voice, the way he's making sure I know I'm in control—it makes my throat tight with emotion.
"I can do that," I whisper.
"Good." He leans forward and presses a kiss to my knee. Then higher, to my thigh. "Because I plan to make you feel so good, sweetheart. So damn good."
His hands find the hem of my shirt, and he pauses, waiting for permission. I lift my arms, and he pulls it off slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping something precious.
His eyes darken when he sees the simple lace bra underneath.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "You're so beautiful, Steph."
I reach for him, pulling him up and into another kiss. My hands find the hem of his shirt, and this time I'm the one pulling fabric over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abdomen.
I've seen him shirtless before—glimpses when he's changed or showered—but this is different. This time I can touch.
I run my hands over his chest, feeling the muscles jump under my fingers. He's all strength and heat, and I want more.
He lets me explore for a moment, then pushes me back onto the bed, following me down. His weight settles over me, careful not to crush but solid and real and perfect.
"Still okay?" he asks, his forehead resting against mine.
"Perfect," I breathe. "This is perfect."
His mouth finds mine again as his hands trace patterns on my skin—my ribs, my waist, the curve of my hip. Every touch is careful, deliberate, asking permission even as it stokes the fire building between us.
When his hand slides up to cup my breast through the lace, I arch into him with a gasp.
"Like that?" he murmurs against my mouth.
"Yes," I manage. "God, yes."
He takes his time learning what I like. His thumb brushes over my nipple through the fabric, and I moan. He does it again, harder this time, and I feel the smile against my lips.
"You're so responsive," he says, wonder in his voice. "So damn amazing."
His hand slides around to the clasp of my bra, and he pauses. "Can I?"
"Please."
The bra comes off, and for a second I’m vulnerable, exposed. But then Kevin's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and the vulnerability transforms into something else. Power. Desire.
"I've dreamed about this," he says roughly. "About you. But nothing compares to the real thing."
Then his mouth is on me, hot and wet, and I cry out. His tongue circles my nipple before he takes it into his mouth, sucking, and pleasure shoots straight through me.
My hands tangle in his hair, holding him to me as he lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other. By the time he lifts his head, I'm trembling and desperate.
"Kevin, please—"
"I know, sweetheart. I've got you." His hand slides down my stomach to the button of my jeans. "Can I take these off?"
"Yes. Please, yes."
He makes quick work of my jeans and underwear, leaving me bare beneath him. I should feel self-conscious, but the way he's looking at me—like I'm everything he's ever wanted—makes me feel powerful instead.
"You're wearing too much," I manage, tugging at his jeans.
He grins and stands, shedding the rest of his clothes. When he straightens, I get my first full view of him, and my breath catches.
He's beautiful. All hard muscle and golden skin and very, very ready for me. My mouth is dry and I can’t say anything, only gawk and admire him. He’s really mine?
He climbs back onto the bed, settling between my thighs, and the caress of his skin against mine is almost overwhelming.
"Touch me," I whisper. "Please, Kevin. I need—"
His hand slides between us, finding where I'm hot and wet and aching for him. When his fingers brush against me, I gasp and arch into his touch.
"Like this?" he asks, his voice strained.
"Yes. Oh God, yes."
He takes his time, learning what makes me moan, what makes me writhe. His fingers move in slow circles, building the pleasure higher and higher until I'm shaking with it.
"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, his mouth at my ear. "So ready. Tell me what you need, sweetheart."
"You," I gasp. "I need you inside me. Now. Please."
“Don’t you want me to play first?” His tongue sneaks out and caresses the shell of my ear, and I shiver.
“Next time.” Because yes, there sure will be a next time. “Right now, I need you. I need to feel connected to you.”
Kevin’s gaze softens and heats up all at the same time. Never knew it could be possible, but this man is showing me a world of possibilities.
He reaches for his jeans, pulling out his wallet and retrieving a condom. I watch as he rolls it on, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Then he's back, settling between my thighs, the tip of him pressing against me before dropping his hand to my pussy.
"Look at me," he says softly. He inserts one finger inside me, and I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. He strokes his finger in and out of me, adding a second, making sure I’m ready. When he’s satisfied, he lines his dick to my entrance.
"I love you," he says. "And I'm going to take care of you. Always."
Then he pushes forward, slow and steady, filling me inch by inch.
The sensation is overwhelming—the stretch, the fullness, the intimacy of having him inside me. I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders.
"Okay?" he asks, his whole body tense with the effort of holding still.
"So okay," I manage. "Keep going."
He pulls back and thrusts forward again, and pleasure sparks through my entire body. He sets a slow, steady rhythm, each stroke deliberate and deep, hitting places inside me that make me see stars.
"God, Steph," he groans. "You feel so good. So perfect."
I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and we both moan. He picks up the pace, his hips driving into mine with increasing urgency. He drops his mouth and sucks on my nipple, forcing me to cry out.
His hand slides between us again, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with his thumb in time with his thrusts.
The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter until I can barely breathe.
"Kevin," I gasp. "I'm close. I'm so close—"
His mouth pops off my breast, and he continues his fast pace of thrusting. "Let go," he murmurs, his voice rough. "I've got you. Let go for me, sweetheart."
His thumb presses harder, his thrusts go deeper, and I shatter.
The orgasm crashes over me in waves, so intense that I can't do anything but hold on to him and ride it out. I cry out his name, my body clenching around him, and he follows me over the edge with a groan.
We collapse together, breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Kevin's weight settles over me, grounding me, and I've never felt safer in my life.
After a moment, he pulls out and disposes of the condom, cleans me with a warm washcloth, then comes back to gather me in his arms. I curl into his side, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
"We will for sure be doing that again." Not sure how to put it into words how I feel.
"Fuck yeah, we will," he agrees, his hand running through my hair.
I giggle and we lie there in comfortable silence for a long moment, just breathing together.
"I didn't know it could be like this," I say, my voice quiet.
"Like what?"
"Safe. And exciting. Both at the same time." I tilt my head up to look at him. "With my ex, it was... He never asked what I wanted. Never checked in. It was always about him. About control." I swallow hard. "I thought that's just what it was. What I had to accept."
Kevin's arms tighten around me. "That's not what it's supposed to be, sweetheart. It's supposed to be exactly this. Two people who care about each other, making each other feel good. Trusting each other."
"I trust you," I whisper. "Completely."
He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'd have waited forever for you, you know. But I'm so damn glad I don't have to."
I smile against his chest. "I'm glad, too."
"I love you, Steph. So much."
"I love you too."
We fall into another comfortable silence, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my shoulder.
"Kevin?" I say after a while.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For being patient. For waiting. For making me feel safe enough to want this." I pause. "For making me feel like I'm worth it."
He shifts so he can look at me, his expression fierce. "You are worth it. You've always been worth it. You just needed to believe it."
I lean up and kiss him, slow and sweet, trying to put everything I'm feeling into it.
When we break apart, he tucks me back against his side.
"Stay," I whisper, even though I know he will.
"Always," he promises. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. You're stuck with me now."
"Good," I murmur, my eyes already getting heavy. "That's exactly what I want."
As I drift off to sleep in Kevin's arms, feeling safer and more loved than I ever have before, I realize something.
I'm not afraid anymore. Not of Elliott, not of the future, not of loving Kevin with my whole heart.
Because Kevin isn't like my ex.
Kevin is patient, kind, and strong. He makes me feel cherished and protected without making me feel small. And he sees my strength even when I don't.
He's everything I didn't know I needed.
And now that I have him, I'm never letting go.
The last thoughts I have before sleep claims me are simple and true:
I'm home. I’m safe. I’m loved.