Chapter 49
Rina
When he leans in and his mouth finds mine, the kiss unfurls gradually, like sunlight spreading across still water.
Oliver’s hands frame my face, as if he can’t quite believe I’m real.
His thumbs trace deliberate circles along my jaw, grounding me in the moment.
His lips move against mine with a patience that undoes me more than any rush ever could.
I taste mint, the faint salt of skin, and something that’s purely him.
It’s warm, clean, and familiar. It anchors me, even as the rest of the world fades into the background.
When he draws away, his forehead stays pressed to mine, our breaths tangling in the fragile space between us.
“The way you look in my jersey, baby…” he murmurs, “there’s no way I’ll ever forget it.” His gaze darkens as it drifts lower. “Although, as good as you look… I can’t wait to strip it off you.”
“Funny,” I whisper, “I was thinking the same thing.”
His mouth curves into a smile that’s lazy, confident, and full of promise. He catches the hem of the jersey and lifts it, his knuckles brushing a deliberate path along my skin.
My hips.
My waist.
My ribs.
Every touch sets off another wave of desire. My composure fractures when his fingers graze the undersides of my breasts, and a jolt of electricity shoots straight through me. The fabric whispers over my skin as he slides it higher.
Then it’s gone, discarded somewhere behind him, leaving the cool air to kiss my bare flesh while his heated gaze follows, worshipful and possessive all at once.
For a second, he simply stares. There’s only the intense pull of his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.
“You’re so damn beautiful.”
His adoration sears everywhere, racing beneath my skin and thrumming through my veins before pooling in my belly until it’s almost unbearable.
He strips off his shirt in one smooth motion before dropping it to the floor.
The clink of his belt comes next, then the rasp of denim sliding down his muscular thighs.
Each sound is amplified in the hush between us.
Every piece of clothing that falls away feels like another wall crumbling, another mile of distance disappearing.
When he’s finally bare, he pauses. It’s not to pose or preen but to let me see him.
Really see him.
Moonlight spills through the window, washing his skin in both silver and shadow. The sculpted planes of his chest rise and fall with each breath, and for a moment, I forget how to take one of my own.
When I reach out, he closes the distance between us without hesitation. The mattress dips beneath his weight as the faint scent of cedar and spice settles around us. His hand finds the curve of my hip, rough palm skimming upward, claiming each inch with measured strokes until he finds my breast.
His thumb traces a lazy circle across my flesh, and my body answers with a helpless arch.
Our mouths find one other again, hungrier this time. The kiss deepens, unfurling into something that scatters every single thought as his tongue slides against mine.
He shifts, fitting his body over mine until we’re chest to chest. The world narrows to the slick slide of him between my thighs and the sound he makes when I tremble beneath him.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispers against my throat.
“You,” I admit, the confession breaking on a sigh. “Just you. Just this.”
He exhales a shaky curse that vibrates through me as his hand finds mine, fingers threading tight before guiding our joined hands above my head. The movement pins me to the mattress, anchoring me even as everything unravels.
When he finally pushes inside my body, it feels less like possession and more like a homecoming. Almost as if every locked door has opened, allowing light to spill into the spaces I’ve kept dark for far too long.
For years, I’ve made safety my religion and control my armor. But here, with Oliver, every wall I’ve built turns to dust.
We fall into a steady tempo that has always found us, no matter how far we’ve drifted apart. His body fits against mine as if it was molded to fill every curve and hollow. His mouth grazes my temple as my fingers clutch the back of his neck, needing to feel the solid weight of him.
Each thrust is deliberate, deep enough to be felt long after. The pleasure builds gradually, consuming me in waves, until it’s not just desire flooding my veins.
It’s trust.
Every movement spills the truth I’ve been holding back.
I tilt my hips, chasing more, and the raw, guttural sound he makes rips straight through me.
His forehead drops to mine. “Look at me.”
Our gazes collide, and the world stops spinning, slowing to a halt.
There are no walls left between us.
No games.
No shields.
Every emotion I’ve spent years trying to hide from is there in my eyes, laid bare for him to see.
He moves inside me like he’s relearning me, and I commit everything about this moment and him to memory. The tremor in his arms. The way his jaw tightens when he’s close. The faint scar near his ribs I’ve kissed dozens of times.
I used to think letting someone this close would break me.
Now I realize it’s the only thing that’s ever made me whole.
My body bows, tension coiling tighter until his name is the only thing I can force out. “Oliver…”
His grip on my hand tightens. “I’ve got you,” he says against my mouth. “I will always have you.”
That’s all it takes for pleasure to hit like a lightning strike before splintering through every nerve. He follows me over the edge with a sound that’s half groan, half prayer. The way my name leaves his lips like a vow undoes me completely.
For a suspended, weightless moment, everything stops.
The air.
The noise.
The ache.
All that’s left is our hearts beating in tandem and the languid slide of skin against skin.
When the world finally steadies, Oliver rolls to the side without pulling away, his body still joined with mine. He holds me like letting go might undo every promise we’ve made to each other. His palm rests over my sternum, as if needing to feel the proof that I’m still here.
Still his.
“Home,” he whispers into my hair, the sound rough with exhaustion and awe, as if he’s naming something sacred.
There’s not a single part of me that doubts him.
He shifts just enough to stare at me, his thumb drifting along my cheekbone. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay.” The words come out soft yet sure, like a truth I’ve carried too long. “For the first time in my life, I feel safe.”
He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at me like I’m the answer to a prayer he didn’t think anyone was listening to.
His lips find my temple and linger there. “Good. Because with me, you always are.”
We lie tangled in the hush that follows, the moonlight painting a pale glow across our skin. His breathing steadies beneath me, and I realize I’ve instinctively matched mine to it.
His hand drifts lower, settling over my stomach. The touch is tender, and a lump of emotion forms in my throat as he strokes my skin. For the first time, that gesture doesn’t make me flinch.
It feels right.
Outside the window, the first streaks of dawn break across the skyline as light spills over glass and water.
Gradual.
Certain.
Inevitable.
Just like us.
Soon, real life will return.
The headlines.
The team.
The noise.
But for now, it’s just us, and the promise of everything that’s waiting to begin.