Cecilia – Twenty-five #2
“Look at me,” he whispered.
I did. And what I saw in his eyes nearly undid me.
Not just lust. Not just pleasure.
Worship.
His hand slid beneath my knee and he lifted my leg higher around his waist, changing the angle. My breath caught as he pushed deeper, hitting something devastating. I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound with a kiss.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed. “Tight. Wet. Just for me. ”
My nails dug into his shoulders. “I am. I am just for you.” I didn’t know where the words came from, but I felt them coil up inside of me and I had to release them.
He growled, hips grinding harder, deeper. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours,” I whispered, barely audible. “I want to be yours.”
And I did.
Something dark and tender flickered behind his eyes, and then his hand was between us again, fingers finding my clit, rubbing tight, precise circles that made me shudder beneath him.
“Let go for me,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want to feel you come all over me.”
I tried to hold on. I wanted to make it last. But his mouth found my nipple again, his tongue swirling, lips dragging me higher while his fingers worked in time with each deep stroke.
Pleasure coiled inside me, relentless and hot. I was right on the edge, shaking, moaning his name again and again.
“Theo—God—I’m—”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing me like he needed it to breathe.
My climax ripped through me, harder than before. My body arched, thighs trembling, walls pulsing around him. I cried out, mouth falling open, and he didn’t stop. He chased every wave of my pleasure, groaning as I clenched around him.
“Fuck—just like that—yes— ”
He cursed as he buried himself deep one final time, holding there, hips tight, and then I felt him come inside me with a raw, broken moan that sounded like surrender.
Our bodies collapsed together. Damp skin against damp skin. My heart racing. His lips pressed to my temple as we lay tangled, still joined, both breathing hard.
Neither of us spoke.
He brushed a hand through my hair, fingertips gentle against my scalp. I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, still dazed, still floating.
After a long moment, he eased out of me slowly, carefully, and I whimpered at the loss.
Theo leaned back just enough to meet my eyes.
“You okay?”
I nodded, my voice stuck in my throat.
“Yeah,” I whispered eventually. “More than okay.”
He smiled, soft and wrecked. “Good. Because I meant what I said.”
I blinked up at him.
“You’re mine,” he murmured. “Even if I only get to keep you for a little while.”
I kissed him before the tears could come. Slow, tender, reverent.
Then I whispered, “Shower?”
His lips curved. “Only if I get to soap you up.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
He grinned, pressing one last kiss to my jaw.
“You love it.”
Love .
The word hung there between us as Theo pulled me into his arms and we made our way across the room towards the shower.
The floor was cool beneath our feet. He reached for my hand as we padded toward the bathroom and turned on the shower, steam beginning to cloud the mirror as water pounded down.
I stepped in first, and he followed a breath behind, his body close, but not pressing. Not yet.
The moment the hot water hit my skin, something shifted.
It wasn’t about sex anymore.
It was about closeness. Intimacy. The kind I’d never let myself want before, never trusted myself to fall into.
Theo reached for the soap and lathered his hands. He didn’t speak. Just ran them gently over my shoulders, down my arms, across the curve of my waist. His touch was unhurried, reverent. He turned me slowly, washing my back with care, thumbs pressing into my muscles.
Every stroke calmed something in me.
He wasn’t trying to take from me. He wasn’t demanding anything. He was just there . Taking care. Taking time.
When I turned to do the same for him, I reached for the bar of soap with fingers that still trembled a little. He bent his head so I could lather his chest, water dripping down the sharp lines of his torso, his skin slick under my hands.
I traced the curve of his collarbone. The faint line of a scar I hadn’t noticed before near his ribs.
He let me touch every part of him .
We stood like that for a long while. Quiet. Eyes meeting. No jokes. No rush. Just breath and steam and softness.
I rested my head against his shoulder, and he kissed the top of mine.
“I don’t think I want this to end,” I admitted to both myself and him at the same time. I pulled away so I could look at him, worried I’d said something that sounded too serious. I was still cautious about being too much for somebody.
His fingers skimmed my waist. “Then don’t let it.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow.”
He said nothing at first. Just held me tighter, his cheek brushing against my wet hair.
“I know,” he said softly. “But don’t think about it yet.”
“How can I not?”
Theo pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone. “Because this is ours. No one else gets to touch it. Not time, not distance, not even reality. This moment is just us.”
I blinked, eyes burning.
I wanted to be present, desperately, but there were so many questions racing through my mind.
What would happen tomorrow? What if when I finished travelling and went home, he’d found someone else?
What if this just felt so good because there had always been something between us and we’d finally given in? What if things went bad?
He stroked his thumbs across my cheeks then, grounding me as if he could hear all the thoughts that were tumbling around inside my mind .
He kissed me then and I felt my body melt into him, my brain quieting with his gentle touch as he held me against him. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was slow and deep and it wasn’t long before we seeked out one another’s bodies again.
Eventually, the water began to cool, and Theo reached behind me to turn it off. The silence that followed was soft, save for the drip of water and our breathing.
He stepped out first, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist before handing me another. I tucked it around myself and let him guide me back into the bedroom.
I sat on the corner of the bed and watched him.
He rifled through our discarded clothes from last night while I stayed wrapped in the towel, my skin still tingling from where he’d touched me. The room felt different where we had spent the last few hours wrapped up in one another.
Theo pulled on his previous outfit, his movements unhurried. I watched the way his damp curls clung to his forehead, the slow flex of muscle as he tugged the shirt over his stomach and buttoned it up painfully slowly.
He caught me staring and smiled — small and boyish, like I’d surprised him by still being there.
“You’re not getting dressed?” he teased, nodding to my towel.
“Just enjoying the view.” I stretched out slowly, lazily, before finally dragging myself to the half-unpacked suitcase and pulling on clean knickers, a bra and a yellow sundress .
His eyes darkened as he watched me. “You’re not helping.”
I smirked and stepped close enough to kiss his jaw, then reached past him for my hairbrush. “You’ll survive.”
When we were both finally dressed, he stepped toward me again, his fingers brushing mine. “Come on,” he said, voice low but light. “Let’s spend the morning together. I want to show you some of the places I used to go when I was younger — ones I haven’t been to in years.”
I blinked up at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. The vulnerability. The way it wasn’t just an invitation — it felt like an offering.
Something in me cracked open.
“I’d love that,” I said quietly.
But then I hesitated, glancing toward my phone. “I just want to check in with Siena first, if that’s okay. She was so sweet to offer to help Nate with Rae last night — I know it meant we could have the evening together, but I just want to make sure she’s ok.”
Theo nodded. “That’s fair enough. I know Rae was so excited when she found out Siena was going.”
I picked up my phone and sent Siena a quick message:
SIENA
Huh. Strange. It wasn’t like Siena to be up early, let alone use so many exclamation points in one message. Perhaps Theo was right and Rae had been so excited to see my best friend that she was acting half delusional from lack of sleep.
I put my phone in the bag nearest to me, lifting it onto my shoulder.
When I looked up, Theo was holding out his hand. “Come on,” he said, grinning now. “I want to show you, my France. Not the tourist version. The version with crooked alleyways and bakeries that only locals know about.”
I laced my fingers through his. “Lead the way, Tour Guide Theo.”
As we stepped out into the corridor, our shoulders brushing, I felt so content to be holding Theo’s hand as we walked back out into the world together.