Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
AUSTIN
The floorboards creak beneath her feet, soft fingers tangling with mine. Slow. Easy. Nothing frantic or rushed.
Just the quiet sound of the house settling around us, fire ticking in the hearth, the low hum of heat pushing back the winter outside.
Behind the bedroom door, my throat tightens, heat seeping into my chest. I rake a hand through my hair, suddenly aware of everything—the rumpled bed, the lamplight pooling gold across the floor, the way she’s standing so close I can feel the warmth of her through layers of flannel and cotton.
“Should take a shower. Shave.”
The words come out rougher than I mean them to. Habit. Stalling. Giving her an out.
She leans forward instead, resting her forehead on my chest, breathing me in. The contact steals the air from my lungs.
“You smell good,” she murmurs. “Like the forest. Like the earth. Like a creek buried under snow somewhere.”
My eyes close. I don’t deserve poetry aimed at me.
I won’t take anything she doesn’t offer. This—standing here, breathing each other in—already feels like more than I deserve. More than I ever planned on having.
My hand comes up slowly, fingers sliding through her dark curls. Longed to do this for so long I can’t remember when the need began. Maybe the first time she wore my flannel. Maybe the morning she stood barefoot in the kitchen, sunlight catching in her hair like she belonged here.
“Your hair’s soft,” I murmur, because I don’t trust myself to say anything bigger.
Her pupils are blown, lavender eyes nearly black. I trace the line of her jaw, feel the hitch in her breath when my thumb brushes her skin. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips, and my pulse jumps hard enough to make me dizzy.
I don’t kiss her.
I wait.
Let her decide.
Her hands slide beneath my Carhartt, pushing it from my shoulders. The friction of fabric moving feels louder than it should in the quiet room. I let the coat fall, heart pounding, muscles tight with restraint.
She fumbles with the buttons of my flannel, giggling when she misses one. I don’t help. Just stand there while she tries again, hands shaking, breath shallow. Every instinct in me wants to take over—but I won’t. This isn’t about speed. It’s about choice.
I catch her wrists gently, smoothing her palms over my chest, grounding her, and myself.
“Still time to stop.”
“I don’t want to.”
My forehead rests against hers. The simplicity of her words hits harder than anything else could.
“I want you, too, Allie Montgomery.”
My mouth hovers over hers, tension coiling tight. My hands slide to her waist—and stop. Giving her another moment. Another chance to pull back.
“Sorry I’m so…” She gasps when my grip firms just slightly. “Soft.”
“Don’t apologize.”
I kiss her then—slow, deep, unhurried. No claiming. No rush. When I pull back, she’s flushed and breathless, eyes shining like she’s stepped into something she didn’t know she was allowed to want.
“I like how you feel under my hands,” I murmur, squeezing her hips just enough to draw a soft sound from her throat. “Like you were made for them.”
That breaks her restraint.
She kisses me harder, tugging me backward toward the bed. And damn—I feel it. No hiding it now. My body gives me away completely, heat and need crashing together.
I lay her down gently, bracing myself so I don’t crush her. Firelight flickers gold across her skin, painting her in warmth and shadow. She looks unreal like this—open, trusting, waiting.
“This still okay?” I check in, voice low but steady.
“Yes.”
Her palm slides under my Henley, skin on skin. The contact pulls a groan from me before I can stop it. I fight for control, breathing through it, grounding myself in the weight of my body, the smell of her, the crackle of the fire.
Her eyes round. “Did you hurt your hand again?”
“What hand?” I chuckle softly, savoring how her fingertips explore my chest and abs, curious and unafraid. I bring my hand up to stroke her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye.
“You’re so beautiful,” I manage, the words scraping my throat raw.
The truth of it hits me hard enough to hurt.
Yearning shivers through me, centering low and deep. She guides my good hand beneath her shirt, the motion deliberate, unmistakable.
“Show me.”
I do. Slow circles, learning her breath, her rhythm, the way her body answers without fear. When my thumb brushes her pebbled nipple, she gasps, hips lifting just enough to tell me she wants more.
“Please.”
Every slide of my fingers, every brush of my hand is a lesson. I dip my head, kiss and tease, letting her melt beneath me. She pulls my hand lower, to where she’s already slick and aching.
“Tell me when to stop,” I murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lavender eyes shine. Something deep and fragile flickers there.
“You’re such a good man.”
“What does that mean?” I ask carefully.
“It means I don’t want you to stop.”
That’s enough.
I move with intention now, feathering my lips across her torso—slow, deliberate, paying attention to every sound she makes, every shift of her body. When I spread her thighs, she tenses, panic flickering. I still instantly.
“Never had a man… like that.”
“You okay?” I ask without hesitation.
“Yes. But you don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
The choice matters. I make sure she knows that.
Then, my mouth proves it. Fingers tugging the spot where she craves me. Tongue twirling and lapping until her hips chase me. Her hands ball in the sheets. She trembles around me, drawing me in. So close.
So fucking close.
Her breath breaks, her body responding fully now, trust replacing fear. I stay with her through it, through every tremor, until she collapses back into the mattress, spent and glowing, the room quiet except for our breathing.
“No man has ever—”
“Good,” I say, smiling before I can stop myself.
She laughs softly, eyes drifting to my cheeks. “Love your dimples. You should smile more.”
“Will with you.”
I pull her into my arms, breathing in sugarplums and warmth, letting the moment settle instead of rushing past it.
“How was that?”
“So good,” she whispers, eyes wet—not broken, just overwhelmed.
“I didn’t know,” she says softly, “that it could feel like that… without taking everything from me.”
My chest tightens around the words.
“I don’t want to take anything from you,” I say quietly. “I just want to give you what you ask for.”