Chapter 8
Clara
I draw in a breath that doesn’t quite make it all the way down. It catches somewhere high in my chest, sharp and thin, like my body doesn’t know what to do with it. Everything feels too much. Too full. Too… stretched.
Everything crowds in at once, a fullness that presses outward in a way my body doesn’t know how to hold yet, stretching me past anything familiar until my muscles lock around it. My fingers curl into the sheets beside my hips, as I hold myself still beneath him.
Sound drops away. The room, the bed, the air on my skin, all of it fades until there’s nothing left but the pressure inside me, insistent and impossible to ignore.
A splitting pressure that makes my eyes sting and my throat tighten.
This isn’t the soft blur and the slow slide I imagined.
This is raw and immediate and too real to soften.
I didn’t expect to feel like I’m being opened from the inside, like my body is learning something all at once instead of slowly.
I try to breathe through it. Try to soften it. But the instinct to pull away flashes hot and urgent. I don’t move.
Above me, Jeremy stills too.
Completely.
He goes still so fast, it’s like he hit a wall. The heat of him doesn’t lessen, but the motion stops, and somehow that makes me more aware of him. Of how much of him there is. Of how deeply he’s there.
His weight dips closer. “Hey.” Something in him locks down, and I feel it in the way his weight settles heavier, in the way his breath changes against my skin. When I finally look up, his expression hits me like a second impact.
His jaw sets, then loosens, then sets again, like he can’t quite settle into it.
His brows draw together as he looks at me—really looks this time—his gaze moving over my face, lingering at my eyes, my mouth, my eyes again.
He doesn’t glance away. Not even for a second.
Like he’s taking something in and trying to understand it before he does anything else.
For a flicker of a moment, doubt curls low in my belly, colder than the ache. Did I do something wrong? Is this… disappointing?
I swallow, but my mouth is dry.
He exhales slowly, like he’s forcing something down, and then he lowers himself onto his elbows, slow and careful, until his weight settles around me and his chest grazes mine, his presence filling every inch of space I can feel.
His hands come up, framing my face, and his thumbs brush over my cheeks.
That’s when I realize.
My skin is damp.
I hadn’t even noticed the tears.
His touch gentles immediately, the earlier tension melting away as his gaze searches mine. There’s nothing sharp in it now. Only concern. Focus. Like I’m the only thing in the world that matters in this moment.
“Hey…” His breath ghosts over my lips, warm, close enough to feel the shape of the word.
His thumbs sweep again, slower this time, catching the moisture at the corners of my eyes. I feel the warmth of his skin, the slight roughness of his fingertips, the way he lingers like he’s afraid to miss something.
“I’m okay,” I manage, though my voice comes out thinner than I intend.
His mouth tightens. He shifts, careful with it this time, changing the angle just enough that the strain eases, but he doesn’t withdraw.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on mine, his hands steady where they hold my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I guess—” I let out a small, shaky breath— “I guess, I didn’t want to make it bigger than it is. And it would have hurt anyway,” I say, forcing a faint smile that doesn’t quite hold. “I just… didn’t want to make it a whole thing.”
His expression changes again. He holds my gaze, then looks over my face like he’s taking stock of every detail, his thumb tracing along my cheekbone, the movement slowing until I feel each pass of his skin against mine.
“You don’t have to hide things from me,” he says quietly.
Something in my chest loosens at that, the tightness easing just enough that I can breathe a little deeper.
Before I can answer, his mouth brushes mine, light and warm, lingering there like he’s giving me space to pull away.
I don’t.
His lips press again, firmer this time, and the kiss deepens by degrees, unhurried, each shift of his mouth drawing me in until I forget the ache for a second and focus on the heat of him, the taste of him, the way he stays right there with me instead of taking more than I can give.
His mouth moves against mine, heat building with each pass of his lips.
I catch the faint taste of something he drank earlier, mixed with the warmth of him, and it pulls me in closer without thinking.
I feel his breath at the corner of my mouth, and feel the way he shifts to deepen the kiss by degrees instead of taking it all at once. It’s careful. Attentive. Like he’s listening to every small reaction in my body.
My hands loosen from the sheets.
Slide up.
Find his shoulders.
The tightness in my chest eases under his mouth, loosening little by little as he keeps kissing me.
The sting doesn’t vanish, but it fades into the background, no longer the only thing I can feel as a slow heat begins to gather low in my belly.
A faint, unfamiliar tingling threads through the ache.
It makes me draw in a deeper breath this time, one that actually fills my lungs.
My body shifts without me fully deciding to move, hips tilting just slightly beneath him.
I shift beneath him, just enough to feel what changes.
The movement sends a different pull through me, less sharp this time, spreading instead of cutting.
My lips part under his, and I lean into the kiss, chasing that warmth, that slow-building heat rising where the sting used to sit.
Without thinking, I move again, a small roll of my hips.
Jeremy stills.
It’s brief, but I feel it—every muscle in him going quiet as he registers it. He lifts his head just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm and uneven where it mixes with mine.
His eyes search my face, then his mouth curves, the tension easing out of it as fine lines crease at the corners of his eyes.
“Something you want?” he murmurs.
“I think I need you to move.” I wiggle my hips again. “Oh, yes. Move.”
He huffs out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but it catches somewhere low in his chest as he watches me.
“Yeah?” His voice brushes over my lips, rougher now.
I move again, not thinking about it this time, just following that pull building inside me.
The shift sends a ripple through me, not sharp anymore, but deeper, spreading in a way that makes my breath hitch.
My fingers tighten on his shoulders, holding on as I tilt my hips, searching without knowing exactly for what.
Jeremy answers.
Not with words.
His mouth comes back to mine, firmer now, the kiss opening as he moves, a slow answering rhythm that meets mine instead of taking over. The first glide of it pulls a broken sound from my throat, surprise and something else tangled together, and I feel it echo through him.
There.
That.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up, a soft, helpless shift beneath him that has him tightening his grip on me, his hands sliding from my face to my hips, holding me as I move again.
Each motion changes it. Builds it.
The warmth low in my belly spreads, curling outward, upward, threading through me until it’s not just there anymore but everywhere, catching in my chest, in my throat, in the way my breath won’t steady no matter how hard I try.
His mouth never leaves mine.
The kiss deepens with it, not rushed, not forced, just… there, matching me, following every small movement like he feels it too. I taste him again, warmer now, and I lean into it, chasing that connection as much as the feeling building inside me.
“Jeremy…” His name slips out against his mouth, barely more than a breath.
His answer is a low sound, felt more than heard, and then he moves again, and—
Everything tightens.
Draws.
That coil inside me pulls so hard it almost hurts, my body going still for a fraction of a second before it breaks.
The release hits in a rush, rolling through me in waves that steal the breath from my lungs, my fingers digging into him as I cling to something solid while everything else slips.
My head falls back, the world narrowing to sensation, to the way it pulses through me, over and over, until I can’t tell where it starts or ends.
Somewhere close, Jeremy’s breath turns rough, his hold on me tightening as he follows, his body tensing against mine, a low, broken sound leaving him as he goes with me over that same edge.
He follows me over it, his breath breaking, his body tightening against mine, the movement of him echoing through me as the waves keep rolling.
The waves ease slowly, leaving me trembling beneath him, my breath uneven, my body still humming with it as I come back piece by piece. My hands loosen where they hold him, but I don’t let go, not yet, not when he’s still there, still pressed close, still exactly where I need him to be.