Perfection
MOONLIGHT WASHES OVER Momma’s front porch, cool and clean against my skin. I wrap my arms around myself, not quite shivering but feeling the gentle wind sweeping the warmth away, layer by layer. If only because there was so much of it inside—warmth, comfort—even in the uncomfortable bits.
We’re heading back soon, so it’s nothing I can’t handle. Keeping body fat to a minimum means I get cold all the time, so I’m more than used to it. Plus, it helps me stay focused.
Though I’m not focused now. I’m spread out, all over, thoughts without subject or shape or purpose. Just there.
Feels amazing.
I close my eyes, let the breeze take me with it. Through the valley, along the ridge, and between the trees, the leaves chanting as I pass. Down to Riverlight where I nestle, fog in the night, wishing it stayed cold forever.
The door creaks behind my shoulder, then the floorboards, as I slowly will myself awake.
When I do, Eli is by my side, the light of the moon catching in his eyes, deep and infinite, as if somehow the universe came only after what it saw in him.
Somehow, as if the stars saw these two pools of liquid darkness and knew they’d be safe there—here, on earth, as long as they keep within him.
And I know it too. So much that it’s hard to breathe sometimes.
He smiles and, without a word, drapes something heavy and warm over my shoulders. The scent hits me first—flowery and sweet, fresh out of the laundry. It’s his denim jacket, the one with sheepskin lining he usually wears in early mornings, before the sun warms up.
It’s so big on me, sleeves loose against my hips, seams dangling way past my shoulders. I wonder if this is how babies feel, enveloped by the warmth of someone who cares for them so deeply.
“Better?” he asks, mostly a whisper, tugging the jacket closed beneath my chin.
I don’t answer, couldn’t if I tried. Instead, I lift onto my toes and sink my lips into his, as soft as he feels, as sweet as he tastes. His hands settle behind my waist, bringing me closer, keeping me steady.
We don’t pull back. For all I care, we stayed there for hours, not really leaving the moment, even as he took my hand and led me down the porch and into the buggy.
The way down the hill seems much faster. I burrow down into his jacket, watching as he drives like he could follow this path blindfolded, smoothing into each curve with the precise speed and exact angle they require.
My hand slithers down from my nest inside his jacket, settles on his thigh. Just need to touch him, to bring real flesh and blood into this dream.
For a second, he glances over. Then his chest pulls out, his smile too, an air balloon filling up, heated with the flame of my palm. He covers mine with his.
After all these years, I finally got it. So simple, right here, literally in my hand .
Perfection.
The courtyard glows softly as we approach, embers in a bonfire under the dark blue of the night.
Eli parks the buggy near the entrance, just like before, and comes around to my side, holding out his hand before I can find the willpower to move a muscle.
I take it, let him guide me up because I want him to, because it’s so natural to let him move me, bring me, take me wherever he wants.
His arm slides behind my waist as we walk through the courtyard. My spine arches around his touch, head rolling against his shoulder like I’m drunk on his presence.
We climb the deck, stopping at my door, exactly where we started. I lean against it, my back against the wood, holding his jacket closed from the inside so I’m ready to brawl for it if he even thinks of taking it from me.
He doesn’t. He barely moves, rooted to the floor like not even an earthquake could topple him. And so close I can feel his breaths on my skin. Can hear them too.
His eyes track over my face, up my cheekbones, down my jaw. Then they linger on my lips, stretching slightly when I gape them.
I want him. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. More than trophies, more than rankings. More than horses or clothes on my back or food in my stomach.
How do I tell him? How do I make sure he understands that the longest I've been between first kiss and putting out is probably ten minutes, not two months? And that I wouldn’t change a thing, rush a second into this.
That he’s my perfection. And that I can’t wait any longer to be his.
“Wanna show me your room?” I whisper.
Eli’s breath catches, jaw unhinges. Then he nods, just once, snatches my hand, and bolts down the deck until we reach the north corner room. His thumb presses into the fingerprint reader by the door, the soft beep and click of the lock even louder than my heartbeats.
He ushers me in, closes the door behind us with a soft thud.
Then he turns on the lights, and I do a literal double-take. “But this…is exactly like mine.”
Same bed against the wall, same simple closet, same desk by the window. Maybe a little wider? No, I don’t think so.
Eli does a double-take too, though at my reaction. “Oh. Yeah, every room’s the same,” he says, hands settling on his hips.
I walk further in. There’s a pile of books on the far nightstand, a lot more scattered on the ground along the wall.
A laptop on the desk, a hand-woven carpet, similar to that one I saw at Momma’s, plus a super cute horse stuffie, all black, white stockings, on the nightstand. And that’s it, all the differences.
Nothing to indicate that this room belongs to the man who owns this place. Who took a bit of land in the middle of nowhere and ran, all the way up to a world-class equestrian facility, the best there is.
It makes no sense. “Why, though? Same size? You’re here all the time.”
He looks around, actually contemplating my question. “Why would I need a bigger one?”
That actually stuns me. No defensiveness, no false modesty, just honest confusion at the idea that he should take more than anyone else.
“For the space? Privacy? Because you’re the boss, I don’t know.”
Eli chuckles. “There’s plenty space outside. And the walls are soundproof, so I have privacy. Plus” —he points with a smile that lights up his whole face— “I have an extra window. ”
I follow his finger, and yeah, sure enough, another difference I missed. Instead of a picture hanging over the bed like in my room, there’s an extra set of blinds covering a second window.
Is this a being part of the team thing? No special treatment, no luxury, nothing most men in his position would grab with both hands.
Or is it…because he doesn’t believe he deserves more?
The realization hits me under the ribs, fueled by Momma’s words.
A life built around goodbyes—of course he wouldn’t build a nest. I rush to him, nearly colliding against the solid heat of his body.
My hands skate up his chest, wrap around his neck, the denim jacket slipping from my shoulders onto the floor.
I don’t notice the difference. If anything, it got even warmer.
Our lips don’t meet—not right away, unsure of how it’s done, how kisses go. Real kisses, shared for the first time.
Everything feels like the first time.
I can’t take it anymore.
I dive into him—a brush of the lips, just feeling the skin. Then a nibble, no teeth, no tongue.
Eli’s arms circle my waist, ride up under my t-shirt, and God, it’s like everywhere is erogenous, like my skin is already three steps ahead, raging for more.
He pulls me against him, and I’m undone. My hand hikes through his hair, the other digging into his shoulder. Tongue manic. Teeth crashing.
It lasts only a few seconds, because then Eli’s hands drop to my ass and I need to break the kiss before what ends up breaking is my stone-hard dick against his. I pull back, take a few ragged breaths.
He looks so fucking beautiful—eyes unfocused, lips swollen, looking absolutely wrecked from just a kiss.
Makes me grin. Makes me want to wreck him that much harder.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper, slipping away toward the bathroom. His answer is a dazed nod, hands slow to release me.
I step into the en suite , closing the door behind me, and my grin only widens at the sight in the mirror. My face is flushed, lips red and slightly puffy, hair all over. I look fantastic.
A quick assessment tells me I’m good to go, so I strip off my clothes and hang them on the door hook.
Should I shower? No, I already did—don’t overthink it.
Stretch? Not a chance. If I’m doing it myself, I’m gonna make him watch.
The thought sends my heart pounding, that fucking grin not letting me off.
My hand hovers over the doorknob for a second as I take a deep breath.
Then I turn it and step into the doorway, completely naked.
I catch Eli for a moment, sitting at the edge of the bed, boots off and neatly lined up at its foot. He’s hunched over his knees, clutching a glass of water between his hands that sloshes around as his leg jerks.
When he looks up, he nearly drops it.
Eyes impossibly wide, stunned jaw falling loose.
There’s a mixture of shock and reverence on his face, so he’s either praying or short-circuited, and I’m totally down with either.
The grin on my face turns into a stupid smirk from how his gaze travels so slowly over my body, up and down and up again.
I know how I look, so I give him the time to process everything. The hours of training, the never-ending diet, the discipline that sculpted this body—fuck yeah, he better get an eyeful.
After a moment, I cross the room to him.
Slowly, watching his chest rise and fall with quick, uneven breaths.
When I reach him, I gently take the glass from his hands before he really does drop it, set it on the nightstand.
Then I straddle his lap, chest to chest, the rough denim of his jeans sending goosebumps through my bare skin.
And his erection, hard and delicious, rubbing against my balls.
Need to get him naked. Need him in me.
But I wait. Because he’s not ready yet.