2. Leo （Then） #3
“Holy shit, Leo,” she whispered against his earlobe.
He couldn’t have said it better.
He led her to his bedroom, thankful he’d cleaned up the place earlier today.
Aside from some of his gear, the apartment was spotless in anticipation of his buddies coming over or possibly ending his birthday night like this, in the arms of a beautiful woman.
Just not with Lynne. He’d never imagined the beautiful woman would be with Lynne.
A part of him still couldn’t believe it was with Lynne.
He gestured to his bed, and she sat hesitantly on the edge of it, eyes scanning every inch of his room.
But as he slipped off his turnout coat and suspenders, her gaze returned to him again.
He caught her blue eyes and held them with a smile as he shimmied out of his pants and peeled his feet out of his boots and fire-safe socks.
He stood before her in just his navy station t-shirt and boxer briefs, measuring her reaction.
He didn’t get to linger this close to Lynne very often anymore.
It wasn’t like their paths naturally crossed.
A wave at the grocer’s. A nod at the town’s Fourth of July fireworks.
He wanted to burn this image of her sitting in his bed into his brain, all while hoping it wasn’t the last time he’d get to see it.
She bit her lower lip.
“I know you’re concerned this might be a mistake. But I promise you—it’s not,” he said. “Let me show you.”
He knelt and kissed her knuckles, slowly, one by one, and massaged the palms, offering tenderness to a part of her she always used but rarely pampered.
Her bare fingernails and velvety skin warmed as he caressed her.
Then he lowered to her feet and removed her slippers.
She pulled her feet back for a moment. “You don’t have to, Leo. ”
“Why? Are you ticklish or something?” he asked.
“No, just,” she swallowed, “self-conscious. About my feet. I wasn’t expecting this. I haven’t had a pedicure in—”
“Your feet are perfect, Lynne.”
His thumbs worked circles into her arches with a slow, deliberate pressure that made her bite her lip again.
Each slow press coaxed her deeper into comfort, and she melted at his touch.
Shoulders dropped, jaw softened—tiny changes he felt proud to cause.
He felt ridiculously honored that she let him do this for her.
Clearly no one ever had taken the time to before.
To him, those small, delicate feet were just another thing he could worship, even icy cold.
It was simple, but it felt like the most intimate thing he’d ever done.
His fingers stroked up the inside of her calf—a single, teasing pass—and he heard her breath catch again.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he blurted out. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help himself.
But what she said next cut him. “We go way back, Leo. Just … be honest. This isn’t some phase, is it? You know—being with an older woman?”
Leo knew the town had talked about him like this ever since he’d hit puberty.
Ladies’ man. Heartbreaker. Playboy. And, yes, sometimes he was those things.
He loved to flirt. But there were other sides to him, too.
Sides Lynne had known well before all of that.
Sincerity. Vulnerability. Those parts of him were still here, in this room, with them.
“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you right now, Lynne,” he told her. “Not just this. You.”
She sighed. “I just—I don’t want to be crossing a line. I don’t want to take advantage of you either.”
“You’re not.”
“And you’re not, like, a virgin?” She seemed embarrassed to ask. “I’m really ruining this, aren’t I? I mean, I’ve heard things, but I don’t want to make assumptions.”
“Sheesh, Lynne. I’m twenty-one. This is definitely not my first time.” He paused, eyes glinting, a small smirk across his face. “It’s my second time.”
“What?” She blinked then huffed a breath. “Oh, no. No no no.” She covered her face, half laughing despite herself. “Leo!”
“Kidding.” He caught her wrists and pulled them down. “I’m just kidding.”
Some of the tension drained from her shoulders. She exhaled a shaky little laugh.
He angled his mouth, inviting her to claim it, and she answered immediately. The kiss slipped into something warmer, deeper, impossible for either of them to resist.
“But I do have something to confess,” he whispered.
Her fingertips clutched at his shirt, keeping him one breath away. “What’s that?”
“It’s been ten minutes. Probably more.” She didn’t move a muscle. “So did you want to head back home, or did you—?”
“Come here, Leo.” She kissed him like she wasn’t going anywhere, her lips sweet against his.
They tried to be smooth. They really did.
But the second she tugged him down on top of her, their clothes started coming off in stuttering, breathless pieces.
They both burst into a jumble of moans and laughter that somehow only made everything hotter.
When all the space between them finally disappeared, her hair came down, and she guided his hand between her thighs, showing him where she needed his touch.
For a minute his mind scrambled, still disbelieving this was real. But her hand told him everything he needed to know—the type of stroke, the pressure, the pace—without her saying a word. And he caught on quicker than she probably expected.
He lowered his face to the juncture of her thighs, and her legs parted for him. So he traced and teased her slick warmth as her fingers combed through his hair.
She let out an appreciative groan. “Fuck, Leo. You really are good with your—” He gently sucked at her clit, and she shuddered. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. Do that again.”