Chapter 33
SAM
The steam from the hot tub curls around us like a lover's embrace, but it's got nothing on the heat radiating from Eli's body as he drags me onto his lap. The water sloshes around us, warm and slick, but it's his hands on my waist that make me burn. His fingers dig into my skin, possessive and hungry, like he's been waiting for this moment for fucking years. His lips crash against mine in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, desperate and filthy, like he's trying to fucking consume me.
When he pulls back, his chest is heaving, his breath ragged, and his eyes—Jesus Christ, his eyes—are darker than midnight. They're locked on mine, pupils blown wide with lust, and I can feel the hardness of him pressing against my inner thigh, straining against the fabric of his boxers.
His hand cradles my face, fingers quivering against my cheek.
"Just this one night," he growls. "One night to be the selfish bastard I've been terrified of becoming. Just this once, I want to take what I've been fucking denying myself for weeks."
His words are a punch to the gut, a confession that makes my pussy clench in anticipation. Weeks. He's been torturing himself over me for weeks. The thought of it makes my skin prickle with heat, my nipples tightening painfully against the confines of my bikini top.
"Since that night I kissed you, you've haunted me," he continues, thumb brushing over my bottom lip in a way that makes it impossible to breathe normally. "You got in my head. In my blood. You've become a fever I can't sweat out. And I hate that."
My heart cracks a little at those words, but then his expression softens.
"But I'm done hating it tonight. Tonight, I want to be honest with you... and the truth is, I'm tired of walking away. I know it's the right thing to do but..." He kisses me again, his lips devouring mine, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that leaves me dizzy.
His hands move lower, sliding over my hips, gripping the curve of my ass with a possessive growl. I can feel his cock twitch beneath me, thick and hard, and the knowledge of how much he wants me makes my clit throb in response.
"Just for this night, this one last night, I don't want to be careful," he whispers against my mouth. "I don't want to be responsible. I don't want to be the guy who keeps pushing you away. I just want to be selfish. I want to take what I've been denying myself for so long..."
"And what's that?"
"You."
His words are like a live wire, sending shocks of electricity straight to my core. I shift on his lap, grinding against him, and he lets out a groan so deep it vibrates through my entire body.
"Fuck, Sam," he growls, his hands tightening on my hips. "I want you. I want to taste the sweetness of your lips over and over, feel your skin burning against mine. I want you like a man starving in the desert wants water—desperate, delirious, willing to crawl through hell just for one more intoxicating taste of you."
A laugh catches in my throat, coming out husky and raw. "Feeling a little poetic tonight, are we?"
His green eyes turn molten, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of emerald remains visible beneath his dark lashes. I've never seen anyone look at me with such raw hunger before. It should frighten me, but instead, it makes me feel powerful, desired in a way I've never experienced.
"So tell me to walk away now, Sam," he growls, his voice ravenous, dripping with want. "Because if you don't... I'm not holding back." His fingers flex against my skin, pulling me closer still. "Tonight, just for one selfish night, I want to make you mine."
The weight of his words settles over me like a caress. Make me yours. Yes. That's exactly what I want. What I've wanted for so long. What I've dreamed about every night since that first kiss.
"Then make me yours, Eli."
Before I can react, he's flipping our positions, pressing me against the edge of the hot tub with his body. His mouth finds mine again in a kiss that's pure dominance, his tongue fucking into my mouth in a way that has me moaning into him.
His hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, gripping my hips, sliding up my ribcage—and when he finally unclasps my bikini top, I don't even have time to feel self-conscious. His mouth is on my breasts instantly, sucking and biting in a way that has me arching into him, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Eli—" I gasp, my voice breaking as his teeth graze my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my clit.
"You feel so good," he murmurs against my mouth. "So soft, so perfect under my hands. I've imagined touching you like this for so long."
"How long?" I breathe, wanting—needing—to hear more.
"Since the first time I saw you in that little red bikini," he confesses, lips moving to my jaw, tracing a path to my ear. "The way you walked past me at the pool that day, all innocent with that knowing smile—like you had no idea what you were doing to me. But you knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you, sweetheart?" His voice drops lower, a delicious rumble against my skin.
Sweetheart? He's calling me sweetheart.
The tenderness in those two syllables catches me off guard, and I almost press my palm against my chest to keep my heart from leaping straight through my ribs.
"And I couldn't look away. I tried, God knows I tried, but you're impossible to ignore, Sam." His teeth graze my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. "You've been living in my head, in my dreams, driving me crazy."
"Fuck," he growls, pulling back just enough to stare, his eyes burning with appreciation. "Look at you... fucking perfect." His thumb brushes over one stiff peak, rolling it slowly, watching my reaction with fascination.
He does it again, harder this time, pinching just enough to make me gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. The sensation shoots straight to my core, and I feel myself growing wetter beneath the water.
"You like that? I love watching your expressions, Sam. Every little twitch, every gasp—it's like reading a map to what makes you feel good."
"Eli—" I whine, overwhelmed by the attention, by the skillful way he's playing my body. But he silences me with another bruising kiss, his tongue fucking my mouth in filthy, wet strokes that leave me dizzy and desperate for air.
He breaks the kiss to move his mouth to my neck, and I tilt my head back, giving him better access. His lips are soft against my pulse point, but then he nips at the sensitive skin, soothing the sting immediately with his tongue. The contrast of sensations—soft lips, sharp teeth, wet tongue—makes me shudder against him.
"Your skin tastes like heaven," he murmurs against my throat, trailing kisses down to my collarbone. "Sweet and salty at once. I could spend hours just tasting every inch of you."
His words make me ache in places I've never ached before.
As his mouth continues its delicious journey, his hand keeps working at my breast, pinching and rolling my nipple until I'm squirming on his lap, unconsciously grinding against his hardness. The friction is maddening, not enough but too much all at once.
"Is this okay?" he asks between kisses, his breath hot against my skin. "Tell me what feels good, sweetheart because I want to make this perfect for you."
"Everything," I gasp, overwhelmed by sensation. "Everything feels good. Please don't stop."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. "I'm just getting started."
His words send a shiver down my spine, and when his hand slips beneath the waistband of my bikini bottoms, I'm already dripping for him. His fingers slide through my wetness with ease, and when he feels how soaked I am, he lets out a groan that's half frustration, half admiration.
"Fuck, Sam," he murmurs, his fingers circling my clit in slow, teasing strokes. "You're fucking drenched. How long have you been this wet for me?"
"Since you kissed me," I admit, my voice trembling as his fingers move in torturous circles. "Eli, oh my God," I moan, my hands gripping his shoulders for support as my head falls back. "That feels... I can't even..."
"You're so responsive," he murmurs. "So beautifully responsive. I love the sounds you make."
His fingers are relentless, stroking and teasing, building the pressure inside me until I'm practically vibrating with need.
"Please," I beg, my hips bucking against his hand. "Please, Eli, I need—"
"What do you need?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me exactly what you need."
His fingers pause, hovering just above my clit, and the loss of contact is fucking agony.
"I need you," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "I need more..."
His eyes darken at my words. When his finger circles my entrance, I tense slightly—not from fear but from anticipation.
"Have you done this before?" he asks gently, his movements slowing but not stopping.
I shake my head, suddenly self-conscious. "Not... not all the way."
His expression softens. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for, Sam. We can stop anytime."
"No," I say quickly, perhaps too quickly, but I don't care. "I don't want to stop. I want this. I want you."
The smile that crosses his face is tender but tinged with something darker, more primal. "Then I'm going to make this so good for you." He kisses me softly.
I nod, beyond words now, and he slowly, carefully slips one finger into me. The sensation is foreign but not unpleasant—a fullness I'm not used to but immediately crave more of.
"Okay?" he asks, watching me intently.
"More than okay," I breathe, moving my hips experimentally against his hand.
He starts to move his finger in and out, slowly at first, letting me adjust to the feeling. When I begin to rock against him, he adds a second finger, stretching me in a way that burns slightly but quickly turns to pleasure.
"That's it, beautiful," he encourages, his thumb finding my clit and circling it lightly. "Just feel. Let go for me."
The dual sensation—his fingers inside me, his thumb working my clit—builds a pressure low in my belly that I've never felt before. I've touched myself before, of course, but it never felt like this. Never felt so overwhelming, so all-consuming.
"Eli, I think I'm—" I gasp, my thighs beginning to shake. "Something's happening."
"I know, sweetheart. I can feel you getting tighter." His voice is strained but encouraging. "Let it happen. Come for me, Sam. I want to feel you come around my fingers."
His words push me closer to the edge, and when he curls his fingers inside me, hitting a spot I didn't even know existed, the pressure breaks.
I shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me, my inner walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers. My vision blurs, my body tensing and then going limp as the most intense sensation I've ever experienced washes over me.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm slumped against his chest, his free arm wrapped around me securely while his other hand still cups me intimately. He's whispering praise against my hair—beautiful, perfect, incredible—words I barely register through my post-orgasmic haze.
Slowly, I lift my head to meet his gaze, and what I see there steals my breath all over again. His eyes are dark, reverent, filled with so much want it makes my still-sensitive body throb with renewed desire.
"That was..." I trail off, unable to find words adequate enough.
"Just the beginning," he finishes, his voice low and promising. He withdraws his fingers from me carefully, and I watch, mesmerized, as he brings them to his lips and tastes them. The sight is so erotic I feel myself clench around nothing.
"I need to taste you properly," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've been dying to know how sweet you are."
For a moment, I'm confused—hasn't he just tasted me?—but then understanding dawns as his hands move to my hips. He grips me firmly, one hand sliding to cup my ass, and in one fluid motion lifts me up and shifts my position. Suddenly I'm sitting on the edge of the hot tub, the cool night air raising goosebumps on my wet skin, and Eli is looking up at me from the water, his hands resting on my knees.
The position feels exposed, vulnerable, but the hunger in his eyes turns that vulnerability into something powerful—something electric that races through my veins, and the self-consciousness from seconds ago simply disappears.
He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh.
"Do you really want this?" he asks, his breath warm against my sensitive skin.
I nod, then realize he deserves words. "More than anything," I whisper, surprised by the steadiness in my voice when the rest of me feels like I might shake apart.
With that confirmation, Eli gently parts my legs wider, his hands strong but tender. Slowly, reverently, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my bikini bottoms and slides them down my legs, leaving me completely exposed to his gaze.
"You're absolutely perfect," he breathes, eyes drinking in every inch of me. "And MINE."
The next thing I know, he's sliding down my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When his mouth finally reaches my pussy, I nearly come undone on the spot. His tongue laps at my slit in slow, deliberate strokes, tasting me like I'm fucking dessert.
"Jesus Christ," he groans against me, the vibration sending sparks shooting through my core. "You taste fucking incredible."
His tongue circles my clit with expert precision, teasing and sucking in a way that has me clawing at the edge of the hot tub. He's relentless, driving me closer to the edge with every stroke, and when he slips a finger inside me, I'm gone.
I come with a cry that echoes through the night, my body trembling as waves of pleasure crash over me. But Eli doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps stroking, dragging my orgasm out until I'm practically sobbing with overstimulation.
"Eli—" I gasp, my thighs shaking around his head. "Please, I can't—"
"You can," he growls against me, his fingers curling inside me, hitting a spot that makes me see stars. "And you will."
And just like that, he's building me up again, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to send me spiraling. I've never felt like this before—so full, so fucking desperate—and when I finally come again, it's with a scream that tears through my chest.
Eli pulls back, his lips glistening with my wetness, and the look in his eyes is pure fucking triumph.
"You're mine," he growls, his voice rough with want. "And I'm not done with you yet."
And just like that, I know this night is going to wreck me in the best possible way.
The frigid night air prickles against my wet skin for only a moment before Eli's warmth envelops me completely. His arms cradle me against his chest as he carries me from the steaming hot tub toward the cabin door, my naked body pressed against his. Water drips from both of us, leaving a constellation of droplets trailing behind.
I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and strong, unlike my own, which flutters like a trapped bird beneath my ribs—nervous, excited, and terrified all at once about what comes next.
The cabin instantly wraps us in its cozy heat, so different from the biting chill outside. The temperature shift feels like passing through an invisible curtain—from winter straight into summer—and my skin prickles with the contrast.
Our wet footsteps mark the wooden floor in dark, temporary imprints. There's something intimate about these paired trails we're leaving behind, something that makes my heart constrict knowing they'll dry and disappear, just like what's happening between us tonight.
The dim amber light from the fireplace dances across the walls, casting long shadows that follow us as Eli carries me toward the bedroom. His wet skin gleams like burnished gold, water droplets clinging to the contours of his shoulders and chest. I find myself mesmerized by a single drop tracing the line of his collarbone before disappearing into the hollow of his throat.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I lie, unable to admit I'm committing every second to memory.
He lowers me onto the bed with a gentleness that makes my chest ache. The soft duvet beneath me quickly absorbs the water from my skin, and I suddenly feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with my nakedness. It's the tenderness in his eyes that strips me bare, peels away more layers than just clothing ever could.
I can't help it when my gaze drifts lower, following the trail of dark hair that narrows down his abdomen to where his wet boxers cling to him like a second skin. My breath catches sharply in my throat. The outline of him is unmistakable—straining against the soaked fabric, impossibly large. A gasp escapes me before I can stop it.
Eli notices, of course he does. His lips curl into a knowing smile that sends heat rushing to my cheeks. When he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly—torturously slowly—peels them down, I swear time itself stutters to a halt.
Holy mother of—
I swallow hard, my eyes widening as he stands before me completely naked. My brain short-circuits, struggling to process what I'm seeing. I mean, I've seen diagrams in health class and stumbled across enough porn to have a general idea of male anatomy, but this... this is something else entirely.
He's fully erect, standing proud and almost intimidatingly large. In my head, I'm running through the most ridiculous comparisons—like trying to fit a summer sausage into a cocktail straw, or parking a Hummer in a compact space. I know enough about sex to understand what's supposed to happen next, but there's a part of me that's genuinely questioning the laws of physics right now.
Will it fit?
Can it fit?
Should I be measuring things before we attempt this?
Eli cocks an eyebrow arrogantly, his green eyes gleaming with amusement and desire. It's like he can read every single panicked, horny thought running through my head.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," he says, his voice dropping to a gravelly tone that makes something inside me liquify. "It will fit. I'll make it fit."
Oh shit, that's hot. Wait, can he really read my mind?
My face heats up even more, the blush probably spreading all the way down to my chest as his eyes trace over my nakedness. There's an intensity in his gaze that feels almost physical, like fingertips skimming across my skin. It's too much. The vulnerability, the wanting, the fear of inadequacy—it all crashes over me at once.
I reach for the duvet, trying to pull it over myself, needing some kind of shield against the overwhelming intimacy of being seen—really seen—by him.
Eli slowly shakes his head, that devious smirk still playing at his lips. "Don't you dare hide that perfect body from me." His voice is soft but leaves no room for argument. "I haven't had my fill of looking at you yet."
My hands freeze on the duvet. "I'm not—" I start, then falter. Not what? Not perfect? Not experienced? Not going to be here tomorrow?
"You're beautiful," he says simply, as if it's an undisputed fact rather than his opinion. "Every inch of you."
He moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as his strong hands encircle my ankles. His thumbs press into the sensitive hollows there, sending electric currents racing up my legs. Then he's prowling forward, his muscled body moving with feline grace, a dangerous hunger in his eyes that makes my core clench with need. He takes his time claiming my body inch by inch, his calloused palms branding my calves, my thighs, leaving fire in their wake.
When he reaches my hips, his hot mouth descends on my hipbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before his tongue soothes the sting. I arch involuntarily as he tastes his way up my stomach, each wet, open-mouthed kiss making me whimper. By the time he hovers above me, his ragged breathing matching my own, I'm writhing beneath him. The thick, hard length of him pulses against my inner thigh, so close to my slick center that I have to bite my lip to keep from begging.
The realization crashes over me—I'm about to be utterly, completely claimed by Eli— and my body surrenders before my mind can catch up.
He grabs his wallet from the nightstand. With practiced ease, he flips it open, thumb sliding into that hidden compartment behind his ID and fishes out a condom. The metallic sound as he begins to tear it open cuts through the room's silence.
"Wait," I hear myself say, surprising even myself. My hand reaches out to cover his, stopping him.
"What's wrong?"
I swallow hard, not entirely sure why I'm doing this, only knowing that I want nothing between us tonight. "Can we... can we do it without?" The words come out breathy and uncertain.
His eyebrows draw together, concern evident in his expression. "Sam, we should use protection. For safety reasons." His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist soothingly. "I'm clean, I promise you that, but there's also the risk of—"
"Accidents, I know," I finish for him. "I have a birth control implant." I tap the inside of my upper arm where the tiny rod sits beneath my skin. "Please?"
He looks like he wants to ask why I have birth control when I've never done this before—I can see the question forming behind his eyes—but he doesn't voice it. Instead, he studies my face for a long moment, as if trying to read something in my expression.
"You're sure?" he finally asks, his voice serious.
I nod, unable to explain that I want to feel all of him, that I need this one night without barriers of any kind. "I'm sure."
The foil packet drops back onto the nightstand, forgotten. Eli tilts his head down and claims my mouth in a scorching kiss that ignites blood in my veins. He tastes of salt and hunger as his tongue plunges into mine, and I arch into him, my nails raking through his damp hair. A low groan tears from my throat.
" Your body is fucking exquisite, Sam," he murmurs against my lips, then trails searing kisses from my jaw to the hollow of my throat. " I' m going to worship every inch of you until your bones tremble with pleasure."
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my slick, swollen core. When he sinks one fingertip in, I cry out, hips bucking. He circles slowly, pressure building just right to make my toes curl and my vision swim.
" That' s it," he rasps in my ear, voice thick with need. " Let me hear every sound you make when I drive you wild."
He alternates lazy, teasing circles with sudden, delicious dips, driving me out of my mind. I clutch at his broad shoulders, my nails pressing into his skin as waves of pleasure coil tighter and tighter in my belly.
" Eli," I gasp, hips grinding against his hand. " Please."
He nips my earlobe, voice a rough whisper. " Tell me exactly what you want, sweetheart."
" You," I pant, every thought consumed by the heat pulsing in me. " I want all of you."
He shifts and positions himself at my entrance. The blunt tip of him presses in, and a fierce thrill shoots through me—part excitement, part delicious apprehension. My breath catches as I feel the first stretch.
"Look at me," he commands softly. His dark eyes burn into mine. "I'm going to go slow. If you need me to stop, just say the word."
I nod, heart pounding. " Promise."
" I've got you." He cups my face, thumb brushing over my trembling lips. Then he begins to push in.
Every millimeter is intense—stretching, burning, overwhelming. I gasp, clutching his back, willing my body to open for him. He pauses with his chest pressed to mine, forehead resting against mine.
"Breathe," he murmurs, voice hoarse. "Keep your eyes on me."
We lock gazes as he sinks deeper, inch by excruciating inch, until he's buried to the hilt. The initial ache warps into something fierce and ecstatic.
"Fuck. You're so tight, sweetheart," he rasps, hips stuttering. "You feel so goddamn good."
I can see the restraint in his face, the tension in his jaw as he fights to maintain control. There's something primal in his eyes, a feral hunger barely contained, and knowing he's holding back for my sake makes my heart swell.
When he pushes deeper, there's a sharp pain that makes me wince. Eli catches it immediately, his thumb stroking my cheek. "We can stop—"
"No," I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. "It's supposed to hurt the first time. I know that. I'm okay. Really."
"I don't want to hurt you," he says softly. "Even if it's just for a moment."
"You're not hurting me," I lie, then amend, "Well, you are, but it's the good kind of hurt. The necessary kind." I shift my hips slightly, trying to adjust to the feeling of him inside me. "Please, don't stop."
I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him deeper. His control fractures as raw desire flickers in his eyes. I taste my own moans on his lips.
A sharp sting of pain makes me wince. He stops instantly, one hand stroking my cheek. "You okay?"
I swallow hard. "Yes—just...slow."
He presses a tender kiss to my temple. "Whatever you need."
He starts again, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting in, setting a slow, relentless rhythm that gives me time to adjust. Each careful drive banishes more discomfort, replacing it with a swelling, molten pleasure.
"That's it," he encourages, voice strained with effort. "Shaking for me, darling? You feel so fucking good around me."
My body responds, rocking with him, every nerve ending aflame. I catch his gaze as he hits a spot inside me, and I arch up, a cry spilling from my lips.
"Right there?" he murmurs, angling his hips. When I whimper, he plunges into that sweet spot again and again. " I'm learning every part of you that screams my name."
The tenderness in his voice contrasts with the increasingly urgent movement of his body, creating a dizzying mix of emotions. This is everything I've ever wanted and everything I know I can't keep. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer. He groans and drives harder, faster.
"My god," he pants, hands roaming—cupping my breasts, tracing down my thighs, slipping between us to rub my clit as he pounds in. "No one else ever touches you like this—only me gets to claim these sounds, this body."
The mixture of his firm grip and whispered claims dissolves every wall inside me. Euphoria spirals higher, and I'm trembling, my whole body alight.
"You're so beautiful like this. So perfect underneath me. So perfect around me. It's like you were made just for me."
Something about his words, about the intensity in his gaze as he looks at me, breaks through a dam inside me. Tears spring to my eyes, overflowing before I can stop them.
Eli stiffens immediately, alarm replacing desire on his face. "Sam? Did I hurt you?" His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. "We can stop. It's too much—"
"No," I choke out, horrified at my body's betrayal. "No, don't stop. I'm not hurt. I just—"
How do I explain that I'm crying because this moment is perfect and it's breaking my heart? That being with him like this only makes me love him more, and that love feels like a knife in my chest because I know it's not returned?
"I'm feeling so much," I finally say, which isn't a lie. "It's overwhelming in the best way."
Concern etches his features as his hand cups my face. I lean into his touch, my eyes closing briefly as I savor the gentleness of it. When I open them again, I meet his gaze directly.
"I'm feeling perfect," I assure him. "Please don't stop."
He searches my face for another moment, then leans down to kiss me with such tenderness that fresh tears threaten. Then he begins to move again, slowly at first, then building back to the rhythm we had before.
The pleasure returns quickly, spiraling higher and tighter with each thrust. His movements become more urgent, more primal, and I can tell he's getting close. One of his hands slips between us again, finding where I'm most sensitive, and the dual sensation pushes me rapidly toward the edge.
"Eli..." I moan, voice barely a whisper, clinging to him.
He stills and growls, "You're mine," then buries himself deeper. "All of this—" he sweeps a hand across my torso, "—belongs to me."
"Yes!" I cry, ankles locking behind his back. "More, I need more..."
The new position draws a guttural groan from deep in his chest, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Come for me, Sam," he urges, his rhythm growing erratic as his own control slips. "I want to feel you fall apart around me."
His words, combined with the perfect pressure of his fingers and the fullness of him inside me, send me hurtling over the edge. Pleasure explodes through me, radiating outward from my core in waves that make me cry out his name.
My body clenches around him, and I feel him stiffen, his rhythm faltering as he follows me over, his release pulsing deep inside me.
In that moment of perfect, suspended bliss, the words I've been holding back slip out.
"I love you."
They hang in the air between us as we both come down from our high, our breathing ragged and bodies slick with sweat. I wait, heart pounding, for a response that doesn't come.
The silence stretches, confirming what I already knew—this perfect connection is one-sided, a beautiful moment that can't last beyond tonight.
Eli gently disentangles himself from me, but instead of pulling away, he surprises me by immediately gathering me into his arms. "Are you okay?" he asks, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I didn't hurt you too much?"
The care in his voice only twists the knife deeper. "I'm okay," I manage to say, though my heart is cracking open inside my chest.
He leaves the bed briefly, returning with a warm, damp washcloth. With gentle, careful movements, he cleans between my legs, the tenderness of this aftercare making my throat tight with unshed tears. When he's done, he tosses the cloth aside and rejoins me on the bed, pulling the covers over both of us.
His arms wrap around me, drawing me against his chest. I curl into him, savoring the solid warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear.
This is what I wanted, what I needed—to be held by him just once, to know what it feels like to be the center of his world, even if only for a night.
I trace idle patterns on his chest, memorizing the feel of his skin, the rise and fall of his breathing. Tomorrow, everything will change. Tomorrow, we'll go back to our separate lives, and this night will become just a memory.
But right now, in this moment, he's mine, and I'm his, and I'm going to hold onto that for as long as I can.
His heartbeat thuds beneath my palm—strong, steady, alive—and I close my eyes, trying to sync my own heartbeat to his. A futile exercise, just like loving him. But I do it anyway, counting each precious beat, each moment we have left.