twentyone
Leo's POV
I don't know at what point I stopped pretending.
Maybe when she walked into my apartment in that dress—
black, tight, hugging every inch of her soft curves.
Maybe when she looked up at me with those eyes, all warm and shy and wanting.
Maybe when she said "yes" to being mine.
But right now...
With her sitting on my lap, lips kiss-bruised, dress slightly slipping off her shoulder, breath hot against my neck—
There's no pretending left in me.
She's straddling me softly while holding my face in her hands like she's afraid I'll disappear.
I rest my hands on her hips.
Her soft, thick, perfect hips.
God.
Her body is heaven under my palms.
Warm.
Full.
Soft in a way that makes me feel like I'm losing my grip on reality.
I slide my hands slowly—slow enough that she shivers—tracing her waist, the dip of it, the curve that leads down to her thighs.
"Aaliyah," I murmur, voice low, "you're so beautiful."
She exhales shakily, her forehead touching mine.
I drag my fingers up her sides, feeling her breathe, feeling her warmth, memorizing every inch.
Her body curves into my hands like it was made for me.
My voice drops even lower.
Almost a whisper.
"I've been wanting this... wanting you... for longer than you know."
Her fingers slide into my hair.
I almost lose control right there.
She whispers, "Then take me."
God.
I inhale sharply, pressing my forehead to her collarbone.
"Don't say things like that," I breathe. "Not unless you mean it."
"I mean it," she whispers. "All of it."
My hands tighten on her thighs—
careful, but unable to hide the way desire hits me like a punch to the ribs.
I trail one hand slowly up her outer thigh, watching the way her breath stutters.
Her skin is warm.
Soft.
Perfect under my fingers.
She whimpers—quiet, barely-there—when my thumb brushes the inside of her knee.
I almost lose it.
I cup her waist, pulling her closer, kissing her slow and deep, pouring every ounce of restraint into the way I hold her.
She tastes like wine and vanilla.
Sweet, soft, addictive.
When I pull back, she's breathing hard, lips parted, eyes half-lidded.
I kiss down her neck slowly, savoring the taste of her.
She gasps.
Her hands grip my shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
"Leo..."
Her voice breaks around my name.
I nearly stop breathing.
I guide her down onto the couch, her back settling into the cushions as I hover over her, bracing myself with one hand near her head.
Her curls spread across my pillow like a halo.
I trace her jaw with my knuckles.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," I whisper. "You have no idea."
My other hand skims down her torso, slow enough to make her tremble.
"Tell me what you need," I murmur, lips brushing her cheek. "Anything. I'll give it to you."
She slides her hand under my shirt, fingertips tracing my stomach.
I choke out a breath.
Her voice is soft, breathy, dangerous.
"I need you."
I lose it.
I kiss her harder with a hunger I can't hide anymore.
My hands roam her body with an awe I've never felt before, worshipping every curve, every inch she lets me touch.
Her waist.
Her hips.
The soft dip of her back.
The smoothness of her thigh when she guides my hand there.
Every sound she makes melts into me.
Every breath she exhales hits straight in my chest.
She arches into my touch—
instinctive, trusting—
and I swear I could die happy right here.
I press my lips to her ear.
"I'm going to take care of you," I whisper, voice rough.
"Slow. Gentle. Every way you need."
Her fingers curl into my hair.
Her breath hitches.
And when she pulls me down and kisses me again, this time hungry and certain.
I know exactly how tonight is going to end.
But that part?
That part stays ours.
Tonight is about us. Celebrating each other.
All night.