16. Sadie #2
The combination of his taste and scent overwhelms my senses. My body responds with a rush of slick so intense I gasp against his mouth, and his answering groan tells me he can smell exactly how much I want him.
“God, you smell incredible,” he breathes against my lips. “Like honey and vanilla and everything I’ve been craving.”
My cheeks burn, but instead of being embarrassed, I feel bold. Desired. “You make me feel like I’m coming apart.”
“Good.” His voice has gone rough and possessive. “I want you to come apart for me.”
The kiss goes on until we’re both breathless, until I’m practically in his lap and his hands are roaming over my back with increasing boldness. When I shift to straddle him properly, feeling how hard he is beneath me, he groans low in his throat.
“This is dangerous,” he says, voice rough with want, but his hands guide my movements when I rock against him.
“Why dangerous?” I gasp, rolling my hips again and watching his eyes go dark.
“Because I don’t want it to end.” He presses his face against my neck, breathing me in deeply. “I could stay here with you forever.”
“So could I.” I run my fingers through his hair, loving how he leans into the touch.
“Sadie.”
My breath catches. “Yes.”
“You’re going to kill me,” he mutters, but his hands help guide my movements, showing me the rhythm that makes us both groan.
“Good way to go,” I breathe, then capture his mouth again before he can respond.
We lose ourselves in kissing and touching, hands exploring over and under clothes while the afternoon sun filters through the trees.
There’s something perfect about this moment—the beauty of the setting, the man in my arms who’s been so patient and gentle, the knowledge that we have time to savor this.
His mouth finds the sensitive spot below my ear again, and when he sucks gently, I cry out and buck against him. The sound echoes off the surrounding trees, wild and uninhibited.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my throat, voice rough with satisfaction. “Let me hear you. No one’s around for miles.”
His words send another rush of heat through me, and when his hands finally slide under my bra to cup my breasts, I throw my head back with a moan that would make me blush under normal circumstances.
“So responsive,” he says with wonder, thumbs brushing over my nipples until I’m writhing in his lap. “So perfect.”
When we finally break apart, we’re both flushed and breathing hard. I’m still in his lap, my sweater rucked up, his hands splayed possessively across my bare back. The evidence of how much I want him clings to my skin, mixing with his cedar warmth until we smell like each other.
“I love this,” I say, surprising myself with the admission.
“This?” His voice is rough, hands stroking along my sides.
“All of it. You, the creek, how you make me feel.” I trace the strong line of his jaw with trembling fingers. “The idea that maybe I could have everything I want.”
“You can have everything you want. We’ll make sure of it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
The afternoon passes in a haze of contentment.
We talk about books and dreams and the way stories help us understand ourselves.
We share the sandwiches he packed, feeding each other bites of apple and cheese while the sun moves across the sky.
And we kiss—soft, exploring kisses that speak of time and patience and the luxury of not having to rush.
When he reads to me again, I curl against his side, my head on his shoulder, breathing in his cedar warmth. His free hand plays with my hair, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.
“I could get used to this,” I murmur against his shirt.
“Being taken care of?”
“Being cherished.” The word feels right. “Being wanted for exactly who I am instead of having to be smaller or easier or more convenient.”
His hand stills in my hair. “You should never have to be smaller.”
“I know that now.” I press closer to his warmth. “You all make me feel like I’m exactly the right size.”
“You are exactly the right size. For all of us.”
The sun is starting to sink lower when we finally begin packing up the picnic. Neither of us seems eager to leave this magical place, but the real world is waiting.
“We should probably head back,” I say reluctantly. “Caleb will be expecting me soon.”
“He will.” But Levi doesn’t move to stand immediately. Instead, he pulls me close for another lingering kiss. “Sadie?”
“Yeah?”
“Tonight, when you’re with Caleb—enjoy it. Let him take care of you the way he’s been wanting to.”
The generous permission in his voice makes my pulse race. “You want me to?”
“I want you to be happy. And Caleb makes you happy.” His smile turns wicked. “Besides, I’m curious to see how you smell tomorrow morning after he’s had his hands on you.”
Heat races through me at his words, and fresh slick pools between my thighs. “Levi.”
“Too much?” But his grin suggests he knows exactly what effect his words are having.
“Not too much. Just... unexpected.”
“Good unexpected?”
“Very good unexpected.”
The walk back to town passes too quickly, our hands linked, comfortable silence punctuated by easy conversation. But instead of anxiety, I feel giddy with anticipation. Like I’m finally stepping into something I’ve been waiting for my whole life without realizing it.
By the time we reach the edge of town, the afternoon light is golden and soft, and I can smell traces of woodsmoke from early evening fires. The familiar sights of Main Street look different somehow—brighter, more welcoming.
When we reach my apartment building, Caleb’s truck is already parked outside, and I can see him waiting patiently behind the wheel.
“Right on time,” Levi says with a smile that holds no jealousy, only warmth and anticipation.
“I can’t believe this is real,” I admit, watching Caleb step out of his truck with that easy confidence I find so attractive.
“It’s real.” Levi’s voice carries absolute certainty. “We’re going to take such good care of you, Sadie.”
He kisses me then, soft and sweet but with heat underneath—a reminder of the passion we shared by the creek and a promise of more to come. When he pulls back, his thumb traces my lower lip.
“Thank you for today,” I tell him. “For sharing that place with me. For making everything feel possible.”
“Thank you for trusting me with it.” He presses another soft kiss to my forehead. “Now go let Caleb spoil you. You deserve every bit of attention he’s planning to give you.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll see what tomorrow brings.” His smile turns almost predatory. “Though I have some ideas about continuing what we started by the creek.”
Heat races through me at the promise in his voice.
As I watch him walk toward his car, I’m struck by how different this feels from anything I’ve ever experienced.
Not jealousy or competition, but genuine excitement about sharing something beautiful with people who all want the same thing—my happiness.
I head upstairs to get ready for dinner, Levi’s cedar scent still clinging to my clothes like a claiming, and for the first time in years, I feel like I’m exactly where I belong.
Maybe this is what home feels like. Not a place, but the people who make you feel like the best version of yourself.
People who see you as exactly the right size for the life you want to build together.