Chapter 6
Chapter six
Graham
The house is quiet when she walks into my room. No knock, no hesitation, just Maeve, barefoot and flushed, framed in the dim light from the hallway. She’s wearing one of my shirts again, an old, worn-out T-shirt that looks a hundred times better on her than it ever looked on me.
I motion for her to come to bed. Once she slides between the covers, I reach for her. My thumb traces the corner of her mouth, then lower, down her throat, where her pulse flutters. She leans into it, the tiniest sound slipping out, and my restraint starts to fray.
“You know what this means,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
“You know what I’ll want.”
“I know what I want too.”
My hand finds her waist, my fingers splaying over the soft curve there. I can feel the tremor in her breath.
When I kiss her, she exhales against my mouth, a sound that’s half relief, half hunger. She presses closer, hands sliding up my chest, exploring me like she’s been waiting years to do it.
I should slow down. Instead, I kiss her harder, deeper, until we’re both breathless. She tastes like wine and nerves and something that feels too much like forever.
Her fingers curl in the back of my shirt. I pull her closer, my hand sliding up her spine. She arches against me, soft and warm, and I swear I feel her heart racing in time with mine.
“Tell me if we’re moving too fast,” I whisper against her lips.
“We’re not,” she says. “I just want to be with you.”
I don’t think she realizes how much that undoes me.
I trail my mouth along her jaw, down her neck. Her skin is hot beneath my lips, her body trembling under my hands. Every time she exhales, it sounds like my name.
When I pull back, her eyes are glassy and wide. “You’re sure?”
She nods, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
The confession lands between us like a promise. I kiss her again, slower this time, letting her feel what words can’t say. My hands roam her sides, my thumbs brushing along her ribs, careful and reverent.
I pull her shirt over her head. She’s all soft skin and nervous energy, a mix of innocence and trust that nearly drops me to my knees.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, barely able to get the words out.
Her smile is shaky. “You’re just saying that.”
I shake my head. “No, Maeve. I mean it.”
I kiss her shoulder, then her collarbone, lingering over the slight shiver that moves through her. Every inch of her is warm beneath my hands.
She traces my jaw, her touch light. “You’re shaking,” she says softly.
“Trying not to rush.”
“I don’t want you to be careful.”
I lift my head, meeting her eyes. “I will be. Because you matter.”
That’s what breaks her composure. She pulls me down into another kiss, desperate this time. Her fingers dig into my shoulders; her body presses close. She doesn’t want gentle, she wants real.
The world narrows to the rhythm of our breathing, the sound of fabric shifting, the quiet gasps that slip from her lips as I touch her. I learn her reactions by sound alone. The way her breath catches when I graze her side, the soft sigh when my mouth finds her throat again.
“Graham,” she whispers, her voice barely there.
The next few moments are a blur of warmth, need, and something that feels a lot like reverence.
I kiss my way down her body. She spreads her thighs, welcoming me to taste her wet lips.
I run my tongue through her folds, and she gasps.
When I flick my tongue across her tight bud, she grabs my head and pulls me closer to her body.
I don’t mind at all, I’m right where I want to be.
I take my time learning what she likes. She’s especially vocal when I pull her clit between my lips and suck.
Slowly, I push the first finger and then another into her tight channel.
“Fuck, Maeve, you’re strangling my fingers. I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like when I’m inside you.”
“Maybe you should find out?”
“Not until you’ve come.”
I double my effort, swirling my tongue around the tight bundle of nerves and moving my fingers inside faster and faster. When I feel her begin to tighten around them, I suck her clit between my lips again and bend my fingers to hit the spot I know will set her off.”
“Graham…” she screams as she comes.
I slow everything down until I know she’s recovered a bit from the intensity of the orgasm. If I wasn’t so desperate to be inside of her, I’d make her come again with my mouth just to hear her scream my name. But, I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside her.
Slowly I move up her body. When I line my cock up with her opening I look into her eyes.
“Are you ready?” I ask, knowing her answer.
“Yes, please take me.”
I push inside her and inch at a time. She didn’t tell me she was a virgin, but I’m starting to believe that she is. Her pussy is so tight and I can feel her tense as I slide into her body.
“Baby, breathe,” I tell her. “If you want me to stop, I can.”
“Don’t you dare,” she says as she takes control. With her hands on my ass, she pulls me into her, and I slide all the way in.
“Fuck,” I exclaim.
“Yes…” she whispers.
I take it slow, gentle enough to make her breath hitch, deep enough to make me forget everything else.
She clings to me, fingers curling into my back, her face buried in my neck. I whisper to her, soft and steady, until she starts to move with me, until every breath becomes shared.
It’s not just desire. It’s belonging.
Her eyes open halfway through, and the look she gives me nearly undoes me—pure trust, pure connection. I kiss her then, because I can’t speak, because anything I’d say would fall short.
We come within seconds of each other. I stay still, both of us breathing hard, our skin damp, our hearts racing. When I slide out of her body, she doesn’t move away. She curls against my chest, one leg hooked over mine, her hand resting against my heart.
We lie there for a long time in silence. The only sound is her breathing, slow and even now, her warmth pressed to me.
I brush a strand of hair off her face. “You okay?”
She smiles, her eyes closed. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
Her voice is drowsy, soft around the edges. Within minutes, she’s asleep.
I stare at the ceiling, wide awake, my mind still running.
I should feel guilty. I should be thinking about Connor, about what he’d say if he knew.
Instead, I’m just trying to memorize this moment.
The weight of her in my arms, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the quiet peace that’s settled over the room.
I pull the blanket higher over her shoulders. She stirs a little, murmurs my name, and settles again.
I press my lips to her hair. “Mine,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
And for once, the thought doesn’t scare me. It feels like the truest thing I’ve ever said.