Thirty Eight
Savannah couldn’t breathe.
Or maybe she was breathing too much — short, shaky inhales that made her ribs ache, and her head feel weightless. Tilly was still close enough that she could feel their breath brushing her lips, warm and unsteady, and the space between them felt charged in a way she didn’t know how to handle.
Her mouth still tingled from the last kiss.
God.
She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.
She definitely hadn’t meant for it to feel like this.
Her whole body hummed, hot under her skin, pulsing in places she hadn’t let herself think about in years. She didn’t know how to stand or breathe or think. All she knew was that Tilly was right there, looking at her like they were barely holding themselves together.
It made something molten curl low in her stomach.
Savannah tried to steady herself with a breath, but it only hitched, sharp and helpless. Tilly’s thumb still rested near her ribs, barely touching, a warm line of contact that sent soft, dizzy waves through her.
She felt fragile.
She felt wanted.
She felt like she might actually come apart.
“Tilly…” she whispered, though she didn’t know what the rest of the sentence was supposed to be.
They didn’t say anything. They just watched her — eyes dark, chest rising and falling like they were fighting their own breath too. Their pupils looked blown, hungry, and the sight clenched something deep inside her.
Savannah pressed her palms flat against the counter behind her, trying to stay grounded, but it didn’t help.
She was too aware of everything — her lips, her skin, her heartbeat, the warmth between them.
A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her, one she didn’t recognize until Tilly inhaled sharply in response.
Her legs felt unsteady.
Her pulse was too loud.
Her body was too warm everywhere Tilly had touched her.
She wanted more.
God, she wanted more.
And wanting terrified her.
She swallowed hard, eyes flicking up to meet theirs — and instantly regretted it. Tilly’s gaze swept over her mouth, her throat, the rise and fall of her chest — slow, deliberate, reverent. Heat shot straight through her, stealing her breath.
“Savannah,” they murmured, voice low and wrecked.
Her knees actually wobbled.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She wasn’t supposed to want like this, or let someone see her this undone.
But Tilly wasn’t pulling away.
Her fingers loosened on the counter, drifting upward before she realized she was moving. Her hand brushed Tilly’s waist — light, uncertain — and then, with a shaky breath she couldn’t stop, she slipped her fingers beneath the hem of their shirt.
Just a few inches.
Just enough to touch warm skin.
Her fingertips met heat and muscle, and the contact jolted them both. Tilly’s breath caught hard, their whole body going tense under her hand. Savannah froze, terrified she’d gone too far —
—but Tilly exhaled, shaky and low, like her touch had knocked the air straight out of them.
Their skin was warm.
Soft in some places, firm in others.
Alive beneath her trembling fingers.
Savannah had meant to pull back.
She didn’t.
Her hand stayed right where it was, barely touching, her fingers grazing the curve of Tilly’s hipbone. Tilly’s eyes fluttered, their expression cracking open into something raw and hungry and barely controlled.
“Savannah…”
Her name came out like a groan, a plea held together by a thread.
Heat flooded down her spine.
Her knees nearly gave out.
She didn’t know why she’d done it.
She didn’t know how to undo it.
She didn’t want to.
The skin under her palm felt too good — too real — and wanting more curled through her so sharply she had to bite back a sound.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, the words tumbling out before she could take them back.
“Tilly… can we go to my room?”
Her voice wavered, breath catching on the next words.
“I just—”
She swallowed hard, heat burning up her throat.
“I don’t want to stop.”
For a heartbeat, Tilly didn’t move.
Savannah felt the air shift between them — not colder, not warmer, just tighter, like the room itself was holding its breath. Her stomach twisted. She’d said too much. She’d gone too far. She should walk it back, soften it, something—
Tilly exhaled.
A soft, broken sound.
Like her words had punched the air out of them.
Their hand tightened at her waist — not pulling, just anchoring her — and when she finally looked up, Tilly’s expression made her knees go weak.
They weren’t shocked.
They weren’t confused.
They weren’t hesitating.
They looked undone.
Their voice came low, rough around the edges. “Are you sure?”
She nodded fast — too fast — heat prickling behind her ears. “Yes.”
Her fingers curled a little harder under their shirt. “I’m sure.”
Something in Tilly loosened — not their restraint, but something deeper. Permission. Want. Relief.
They leaned in and brushed their lips against hers with a care that made her tremble, one last check, one last chance to pull away.
She didn’t.
Tilly kissed her again, slow and warm and devastatingly gentle, and Savannah felt it everywhere — her chest tightening, her breath slipping, her body leaning instinctively toward them.
Then they broke the kiss, just barely, their forehead resting against hers.
“Okay.”
One word.
Soft.
Deciding everything.
Tilly straightened slowly, their hand slipping from her ribs to her elbow, guiding without pushing. Savannah followed their touch, breath catching at how deliberate they were with her — how careful.
Not hesitant.
Just reverent.
“Show me,” they murmured.
Her heart jumped so hard she nearly stumbled. She pushed off the counter on shaking legs, Tilly’s fingertips brushing her arm as she moved. They followed close — close enough for warmth, not so close as to overwhelm.
The walk down the hallway felt impossibly long.
Every step louder than it should’ve been.
Every breath was too shallow.
Savannah’s hand trembled as she reached for her bedroom door, but before she could turn the knob, Tilly’s fingers brushed her hip — gentle, steadying.
“Hey,” they whispered.
She turned her head, barely.
Their eyes softened. “If you need to stop at any point, you tell me.”
God.
Why did kindness make her pulse spike more than anything else?
She nodded, voice barely a breath. “I will.”
And she meant it.
She wasn’t scared of them.
She was scared of how much she wanted this.
She opened the door.
The room was dim, lit mostly by the glow from the hallway. Neat — too neat — the bed perfectly made because she never messed it up on nights like this, nights she didn’t expect warmth or company.
Tilly stepped in behind her, quiet, their presence filling the space without crowding it. Savannah felt their hand rest lightly at the small of her back — an invitation, not a pull.
“Come here,” they said softly.
Her breath caught.
She turned toward them.
Tilly’s eyes swept over her, slow and reverent, their hand lifting toward her cheek but not touching yet — not until she leaned in, giving permission.
Their fingertips brushed her jaw.
Just that.
But her whole body lit up.
“Savannah…” Their voice was almost a sigh. “You’re beautiful.”
She didn’t know what to do with that.
So she kissed them — or maybe they kissed each other, meeting halfway with a heat that made her whole body tighten.
This kiss was different.
Deeper.
Warmer.
Less careful and more wanting.
Her hand slipped under their shirt again — higher this time — and Tilly let out a sound that made her knees buckle.
They caught her by the waist, gentle but sure.
“Bed?” they murmured against her lips.
Savannah nodded, breathless.