Chapter 35 Past
In his room, the air was warmer. The scent of cedar and his cologne worked its way around me.
He closed the door—making sure the moment only belonged to us.
He walked over to the bed and pulled the comforter back, his eyes asking if this was okay.
My answer didn’t need words.
The towel hitting the floor as I climbed in was enough.
His towel joined mine, as he slid in beside me a second later, watching me like he didn’t want to blink—like he didn’t want to miss a single second.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice catching like he’d been holding his breath for hours.
I nodded slowly, eyes locked with his.
He climbed over and kissed me softly.
I felt myself slipping—every bit of willpower I’d been clinging to was starting to unravel.
I stopped him, just for a second—my fingers gently on his jaw, pulling his face back so I could really see him.
The blue in his eyes was deep and intense, like he was holding everything we’d been through in that one look.
In a low, shaky voice, I whispered his name.
“Paul—”
“—I love you.”
His chest pushed into mine with the weight of a deep inhale—he was breathing in the moment, like it was all the air he needed.
He brushed my hair from my face, his hand resting gently on my cheek.
His voice was unsteady, but certain.
“I love you too.”
We paused there—just long enough to feel everything settle in.
Then I pulled him back to me, and we let our bodies give in to what we’d both been craving all summer long.
Gentle in his touch, but steady in the way he moved.
My body sank beneath his, every part of me surrendering to the warmth, the pressure, the longing.
It was intense—unexplainable—the kind of feeling that takes over everything.
We tried to stay quiet, but I couldn’t hold back the sounds that slipped out.
Every time I did, he gripped me tighter, breathing heavy into the curve of my neck.
I knew he felt it too. All of it.
My toes curled with every shift of his body. Each movement was strong and deliberate.
We didn’t want it to end; whenever it felt like it could, we would slow our breathing and steady ourselves—though it almost felt impossible to maintain it.
Once our bodies had given all they could, he collapsed into me—breathless and blissfully exhausted.
We laid there, catching our breath, the room quiet except for our still-racing hearts. His arm was draped over my waist, heavy but comforting. Neither of us said anything right away. We didn’t need to.
My skin was still warm, my body aching in that satisfying way that made it hard to move.
He let out a small, tired laugh—thinking about what just played out between us.
“I really enjoyed that.” he murmured, voice rough.
I smiled. “Yeah... me too.”
He tightened his arm around me for a second, then relaxed again, his forehead pressed lightly against my chest.
My fingers tangled gently in his hair, the other tracing sweet nothings across his back.
I couldn’t help but think that this moment wasn’t dramatic or overly romantic. But it was perfect in its own way.
His breathing began to even out—it was full and deep. The heat from his skin wrapped around me—my breathing began to match his—with every inhale came a slow and profound exhale. My eyes grew heavy. I didn’t fight it.
With the rain tapping lightly against the window—the wind now a hushed whisper, we drifted off to sleep lost in one another. Satisfied, whole, and completely in love.