Chapter 10 #2
“Not yet.” I sink onto the step beside her, the wood creaking under my weight. “He’s suspicious.”
“Because you’re a terrible liar.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She smiles faintly. “He trusts you.”
“Trust cuts both ways.” I drag a hand through my hair. “He’s right, though. I’ve got ghosts creeping too close to the gate.”
“Then stop standing at the door and open it.”
Her words linger between us. I turn toward her, and for a moment, I forget that the world is still on fire. The porch light highlights her eyes, making them appear gold. “You always this good at making sense?”
“Only when I’m not trying.”
Her smile fades just enough to show the worry behind it. “You look tired.”
“I am.”
“Then stop fighting everything alone.”
I don’t answer. The silence lingers, heavy and tense. She places her mug down and reaches for my hand. Her fingers are warm and steady.
“You ever just… stop running?” she asks.
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“I started again.”
She shifts closer. “Then stop now.”
The way she says it, it’s not a plea, it’s a command. And it breaks something in me I didn’t realize was still there. I brush a strand of hair from her face. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not.” Her voice softens. “But it’s easier when someone’s waiting.” Our eyes meet, the kind of look that pulls the ground out from under you.
The silence between us thickens, humming with all the words we’re too afraid to say. Somewhere inside, the jukebox hums a slow and steady blues track, heartbreak set to rhythm.
She shifts closer, the blanket slipping lower. “You ever get tired of pretending you’re made of stone?”
“Every day,” I admit.
“Then stop.” Her voice is soft, not a challenge but an invitation. The kind that doesn’t ask, it draws you in.
I turn my hand, palm up, and she fits her fingers into mine like she’s done it a thousand times. For a long moment, that’s all there is. Her warmth against my skin, her breath mingling with mine, the creak of wood as we lean closer without meaning to.
When our lips meet, it’s tentative and cautious. A test, not a conquest. She tastes like coffee and fear and something I don’t have a name for. Something that feels a lot like home.
She pulls back first, eyes wide, uncertain. “Tiny…”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t think. Just be here, with me.”
I don’t need another invitation. The second kiss deepens, one that burns through hesitation and turns apology into promise. Her hands slide up my chest, clutching the front of my cut. Mine trace the edge of her jaw, the back of her neck, her hair slipping between my fingers like silk.
She exhales against my mouth, trembling. “You always this stubborn?”
“Only when it matters.”
The blanket pools around us. The world narrows to heat and breath, the soft scrape of denim, the sharp inhale when my thumb grazes the inside of her wrist. It’s the kind of closeness that demands honesty even when you have none left to give.
Her pulse flutters under my touch, a rapid drum that matches my own. When Syvannah presses her forehead to mine, I can feel the tremor in her breath, the question in her silence.
“Scared?” I ask quietly.
She nods, just once. “Not of you. Of what this means.”
“It means we’re still alive,” I say, and kiss her again, slower this time, so she can feel every word I can’t say.
She stands, tugging me up with her. The blanket falls away completely, and moonlight spills across her shoulders, pale gold on skin that looks too fragile for the world we live in.
We move inside quietly. The hall is silent except for the sound of our boots on the floorboards and the soft hum of the music below. Her room glows faintly from the bedside lamp. Peanut lifts her head from the chair, blinks once, then curls back into sleep, as if she knows better than to interrupt.
Syvannah turns to me, eyes searching. “You sure?”
“No.” I take a breath, step closer. “But I’ve never been sure of anything that mattered.”
Her laugh is quiet, nervous, beautiful. “Good answer.”
The door shuts behind us, and the rest of the world fades.
What happens next isn’t rushed. It’s slow. Measured like the space between thunder and lightning. We move like two people learning each other’s language, one breath at a time. The air hums with heat, memory, and something dangerously close to peace.
When she finally leans into me, there’s no hesitation left. Only warmth and the steady rhythm of two hearts finding the same beat. I lift my shirt over my head, and Syvannah watches with rapt attention. She does the same, revealing her silky, beautifully flawed skin.
I lean down and drag my lips and tongue against the sensitive flesh where her neck and collarbone meet. Syvannah shudders under my tongue, and a deep moan vibrates up her throat.
Her hands grip the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. I wrap one arm around her waist, tugging her against me. Syvannah lifts onto her tiptoes to reach the bottom of my chin, and throws her head back as my mouth lavishes her breast.
“Don’t stop.” She moans, tightening her grip against my head.
I don’t rush. My hands move slowly, giving her time to pull away if she needs to. I unbutton her jeans, unzip them, and she kicks them off, throwing them behind us.
Her small hands tremble when she reaches for the button of my jeans, but I halt her progress, remembering the trauma she went through with Lattimer and Josiah.
“Wait.” I pant against her mouth.
“What?” Syvannah’s cheeks turn pink from embarrassment.
I cup her cheeks, making her look me in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask.
“Yes, Tiny. I’m sure.” Her eyes drift down my chin and focus on my chest, hesitancy in the golden depths.
“But I’m also afraid.” Syvannah drags her eyes back up to meet mine.
“Afraid I’ll freak out. I haven’t been intimate with anyone since the whole ordeal.
” Her bottom lip trembles. I want to resurrect Josiah, just to kill him all over again for putting that fear in my girl’s eyes.
“You control this,” I kiss Syvannah on the lips before grabbing her hand and leading her over to the bed. “If anything feels wrong, we stop.”
I unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor. “My body is for you to explore, handle, touch, lick, and kiss. Whatever you want to do to me, you have my full permission.”
Syvannah’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”