14 Zara #3
When I finally tip over, it’s sharper than the first time.
My back arches hard off the bed, my vision goes soft and blurry, and I hold onto him like I might drift away if I let go.
Pleasure pulses through me in warm, rolling waves, my body squeezing tight around him as I say his name like it’s the only word left in my head—quiet, breathless, and full of everything we’ve waited years for.
He keeps moving through it, slow and gentle, murmuring soft things against my skin while my body trembles and clenches around his length, his arms wrapped tight around me the whole time.
A few more shallow thrusts, and then he’s right there with me, breath hitching, muscles going rigid as he buries his face in my neck and falls apart too.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe in shaky bursts, hearts pounding in sync, sweat cooling slowly on our skin.
Eventually, he shifts, pulling out carefully. He grabs a random T-shirt from the floor, does the gentlest cleanup known to man, and then collapses beside me, one arm immediately reaching to pull me into his chest.
I go willingly, fitting myself against him like I was built for this exact spot.
“Well,” I say after a second, still somewhat breathless. “Five star review. Would definitely recommend.”
He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh, chest shaking under my cheek. “Always on Yelp mode.”
I smile into his skin. “I’m just saying, if Loch wants a five-star review, he’s getting it.”
“Oh my God,” he groans, covering his face with his forearm. “You’re never letting that name go, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” I answer smugly. “Loch is canon now, and Kat was quite pleased."
He peeks at me from under his arm, eyes soft even as his mouth pulls into a fake scowl. “You okay?” he asks again, quieter this time. “Nothing hurts?”
I shift a little, testing. I’m sore, yeah. But not in a bad way. More in a my-body-just-went-through-a-really-good-time way.
“I’m good,” I assure honestly. “We’ll see how I feel walking tomorrow, but right now I feel happy.”
His expression melts completely at that word.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He exhales, long and slow, like I just released a pressure valve in his chest. His fingers draw lazy shapes on my back, making goosebumps rise along my spine.
“Zae?” he says after a quiet moment.
“Mm?”
“Just so we’re clear,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into something serious, “this isn’t a one-time thing. I’m not getting what I want and then going back to pretending we’re not more than friends.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. His expression is earnest, vulnerable in a way he tries to hide from everyone else.
“I know. You’re not that guy, Cass.”
He searches my face. “I never want you thinking you’re a consolation prize. Or some mistake. You’re the thing. You’ve always been the thing.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t feel like a consolation prize. I feel like… like I finally get to breathe.”
His eyes shine in a way that makes my chest ache in a good way. “Good. Because this? You and me? This is the only thing that’s ever made sense.”
I lean up to better see his face fully, propping my chin on his chest. “So, what? You’re my boyfriend now?” I ask, trying to lighten the heaviness before I start crying for no good reason.
He raises a brow. “I just broke up with my girlfriend and had the best sex of my life with the girl I’ve been in love with for four years.” He leans in, all serious like. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m your boyfriend.”
“Wow. Bold to assume you were the best I’ve ever had.”
He gives me a flat look. “I know I’m the first you’ve ever let see you like that.”
“I tell you something in confidence and now you use it against me. Fine. I see how it is. So far, you’re winning by default then.”
I admitted to Cass at some point during our high school years that I never take my top off during sex.
I don’t know, being fully naked had always made me feel too vulnerable for a hookup.
So yeah, he’s not wrong. Cass is the first guy I’ve let myself be this naked with, figuratively and metaphorically.
He pinches my side, making me squeak. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah,” he admits, eyes soft. “I really do.”
We fall into a more comfortable quiet after that, something that feels like there’s still a lot unsaid, but none of it is scary anymore.
His hand keeps moving on my back, slow and gentle, like he can’t stop touching me just to reassure himself I’m here.
With a smile, I tuck my face into his neck, breathing him in and letting my eyes flutter shut.
This is dangerous.
This is everything I want.
This is absolutely going to ruin me if it ever ends.
But for the first time in a long time, the voice in my head that usually tells me I’m too much, too loud, too broken… is quiet. All I hear is his heartbeat and his voice from last night echoing in my head:
You were strong enough to try. You save people without even realizing it.
I press a small kiss to his chest, right over where his heart is doing double-time.
“I love you,” I tell him again, softer this time, more to myself than to him.
“I love you too, Sunshine,” he replies, words vibrating against my lips. “So fucking much.”
And for the first time in years, the idea of wanting feels less like a punishment and more like a promise.