Chapter 32 Bastiaan #2
Her body fits against mine like it’s always been meant to, like it remembers me.
I pull her in tight, chest-to-chest, my mouth pressed to her shoulder as I breathe her in.
Her hair’s still damp from the shower, skin warm and soft beneath my hands, and fuck, she’s beautiful—messy curls, swollen lips, flushed cheeks from the heat building between us.
She looks up at me, eyes wide and open, like she’s giving me everything without even saying a word.
And I don’t take that lightly.
My hands skim over her ribs, down to the swell of her arse. I grip it, firm, grounding myself in her. She gasps—high, breathy—and her nails dig into my back, not hesitant now. Just hungry.
She’s not shy anymore.
She’s curious. Trusting.
She wants this—me—and that knowledge damn near undoes me.
I kiss her slow, deep, like we’ve got nowhere to be but here. Her thighs part easily under mine, and I take my time settling between them. She’s already wet for me—hot and ready—and the way she whimpers when I grind against her makes my cock twitch, makes my chest ache.
She’s shaking a little when I line myself up, and I pause.
“Amber,” I whisper, brushing my nose against hers. “You okay?”
She nods, eyes shining. “I want you.”
I push in slowly, inch by aching inch, holding her gaze the whole time. Her breath catches, legs wrapping around my waist, and I slide deeper until I’m buried to the hilt.
Christ. She feels like everything I’ve ever needed.
She’s tight, clenching around me, and it takes everything I have not to lose it right there. I stay still for a moment, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing through the sheer overwhelming want of it all.
Then she whispers my name, small and shaky—“Bas.”
I start to move.
It’s not frantic. It’s not rough. It’s slow and deep, like I’m trying to carve the shape of her into my bones. Every thrust is measured, deliberate, pressing us closer than we’ve ever been. Her hands claw at my back, nails dragging over my skin like she’s trying to hold on to something solid.
And I give it to her. I give her everything.
My past, my guilt, my grief—it all fades. There’s only her. This.
She pants my name like a prayer, like I’m the only thing anchoring her to the world. And maybe I am. Perhaps that’s what this is. Two people who never thought they’d have something real, finding it in each other’s arms.
“Look at me,” I murmur, pulling back to cup her face.
She does.
And I swear I see my whole damn future in her eyes.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She bites her bottom lip, tears welling but not falling. “You make me feel safe.”
Fuck. That breaks something in me.
I kiss her again—deep, claiming—and rock into her harder, our rhythm building. Her legs tighten around me, heels digging into the backs of my thighs, urging me closer. Deeper.
Her mouth opens on a moan, and I swallow it, hips snapping just a little faster now. Her body arches beneath mine, meeting every thrust like she’s not afraid to fall apart anymore.
And when she starts to tremble, hands fisting the sheets, I grab them—both of them—and pin them gently but firmly beside her head, fingers laced through hers. She gasps, her body arching beneath mine, every nerve lit and straining.
I press my mouth to her ear, breath hot. “Let go, liefje. Come for me.”
She breaks with a cry—soft, desperate, beautiful—and I follow right after, groaning her name like a man finally let off a leash. I empty into her with a shudder, holding her hands tight, like the world might split open if I let go.
We stay tangled there, chest-to-chest, breath-to-breath.
The room is quiet but full—like something just shifted between us. Like something sacred.
She runs her fingers over my shoulder blades, gently, and I feel her smile against my neck.
“I didn’t think it could feel like that,” she whispers. “That it could be… good.”
I pull back just enough to see her face, still flushed and a little dazed. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes search mine, then drop for a second like she’s ashamed to say it. “I had no idea it could feel like that. Like nothing I ever imagined, like it rewired something inside me.”
She pauses, breath shaky. “The first time I had sex… it was nothing like this. It was quick. Awkward. I didn’t feel anything.
I remember lying there thinking—is this it?
Is this what everyone talks about?” Her throat bobs.
“And after that, I just… stopped trying. I thought maybe I wasn’t made for this kind of thing. ”
I feel her words like a punch to the chest. Like someone should’ve held her better, and treated her like she deserved.
“Amber,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her cheek. “No one’s ever made you feel wanted?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Not like you. Not like this.”
I kiss her softly, then harder, needing her to feel it in every inch of her body.
“You are wanted,” I whisper against her lips. “You’re everything.”
We don’t leave the boat. Not that day. Not the next.
We drink tea. We nap. We talk. We make love and fuck like it’s the only thing keeping us sane.
And maybe it is.
For now, the danger feels distant. The world outside can wait. Because in this little floating cocoon of stolen peace, I’ve found something I never thought I’d have again.
And I’m not letting go.