Chapter 10 #2
He adjusted beneath her, shifting just enough to keep her balanced, to keep her close.
His hand moved lower, following the line of her spine to her waist. The quilt had twisted away in the night, leaving her thigh bare.
His fingers traced along her skin, passing over faint scars, old marks that told their own stories.
He did not pause. He did not question. He let his hand continue, slow, deliberate in its path. He found the bruise at the inside of her thigh. Fresh. Tender. His thumb circled it once, light enough to register without pressing.
Her body answered before she spoke. Her hips shifted against him, a small, involuntary movement that carried more meaning than anything she might have said. Her breath hitched, sharper now, brushing across his cheek.
He hardened under her instantly.
She turned her head, their noses brushing again, her breath uneven now, closer to the surface. He did not rush her. He did not pull her down or push her forward. He let his hand stay where it was, let the moment build on its own terms.
Her arm tightened across his torso. Her back arched slightly, offering more of herself without asking. His jaw clenched. He swallowed back the sound rising in his chest. He kept his movements measured. His thumb still tracing the bruise. His hand steady at her waist.
The silence between them shifted. Stretched tight enough to break.
Kyla lifted herself upright. She planted her knees firmly on either side of him, her posture changing in one decisive motion. No hesitation. No uncertainty left in her expression.
She caught his hand and laced their fingers together for a brief second before guiding it down. Slow. Intentional. Until his palm pressed against the heat between her thighs.
She did not look away. Her breath caught high this time, sharp and visible. Her gaze stayed locked on his.
He let out a rough exhale that he did not try to hide. His hips lifted slightly under her, drawn forward by instinct. She leaned down, her body draping over his again, her mouth brushing his.
“Show me again.”
Her voice stayed low.
Titus tightened his arm around her back and drew her closer. His other hand settled at her waist as she lifted herself, aligning above him. She guided him into her in one smooth motion. No hesitation. One long, controlled descent that took him fully inside her.
He exhaled hard through his teeth. His hands tightened against her hips before easing again, giving her control.
She braced her hands on his chest. Her shoulders rolled forward. She set the pace. Slow at first. A steady roll of her hips that pressed him deeper with each movement. He followed her rhythm. Matched it. Let her take what she wanted without interference.
Her head tipped back, her mouth opening on a silent breath. The movement exposed her throat, the line of her collarbone catching the light as it shifted across her skin.
He traced her ribs with both hands, his thumbs brushing along the underside of her breasts. He did not rush the contact. He let it build. She leaned forward again, bringing their foreheads together. Their breaths mixed, uneven now, breaking into each other with every movement.
The sounds stayed low. Controlled. The soft contact of their bodies the only rhythm that mattered. He lifted into her, meeting her motion. Not taking over. Matching.
Her nails dragged down his chest, leaving shallow lines in their wake. She did not soften the touch. He accepted all of it.
Her breathing broke first. A sharp intake. A tightening through her body that signaled the shift. She reached for his wrist and guided his hand between them. He followed without question, touching her clit, giving her the extra sensation she needed.
Her body responded immediately. Tightening. Drawing him deeper. Her head dropped forward, her breath breaking against his mouth. He pushed up into her, losing the careful control he had held onto.
She came apart around him without warning. Her body tightened hard, her voice breaking low and sharp, her hands gripping him with no restraint left.
He followed seconds later. His mouth finding her shoulder as he finished, his body locking against hers.
They stayed there.
Pressed together.
Breathing uneven and raw.
Kyla collapsed forward against him, her body still trembling in small, uneven pulses. Titus kept his arms around her, one hand spread across her back, the other braced at her hip, keeping her close without pressing harder than she could take.
Her breath came rough at first, then steadied in slow increments against his neck. He stayed where he was, letting the rhythm settle, letting his own breathing follow hers until it evened out.
He did not rush her.
He let his hand move in a slow path along her back, from shoulder to waist, then back again. A quiet motion that asked nothing and offered no interruption. Her skin stayed warm beneath his palm, damp with sweat that had not yet cooled.
She shifted slightly, adjusting against him, her leg sliding along his side as she settled more comfortably across his hips. The movement stayed small, instinctive, and he adjusted with her without breaking contact.
Neither of them spoke. He turned his head enough to press his mouth lightly against her temple. The contact stayed brief. Enough to mark it. Not enough to demand anything in return.
Her fingers tightened once at his shoulder, then loosened again. He let his hand drift lower, tracing the line of her hip, then back up to the center of her back.
Her breathing slowed further, smoothing out into something steady and grounded. The tension that had lived in her shoulders eased under his palm, little by little, until she lay fully relaxed against him.
He kept her there.
Sunlight had climbed higher along the wall by then, stretching across the quilt and catching along the curve of her shoulder. The room had warmed, the air thicker now, carrying the quiet aftermath of what they had shared.
He shifted slightly beneath her, enough to ease the strain in his shoulder, careful not to disturb her more than necessary.
His arm tightened for a second, then settled again when she did not pull away.
Her hand slid from his chest to his side, resting there, fingers curved loosely against his ribs.
He covered her hand with his.
Time stretched without pressure. The world outside could wait. The ranch, the work, the decisions that would follow all of this. They stayed at a distance for now.
He let his gaze drift across the ceiling, then back to her, taking in the line of her back, the fall of her hair, the quiet certainty of her staying where she was. Something in his chest tightened again, but not from pain this time. From knowing.
He had spent too long expecting distance. Expecting retreat. Expecting her to step back the moment the night ended. She had not. She lay across him, breathing steady, her hand still beneath his, her body aligned with his in a way that left no room for doubt.
He drew in a slow breath and let it out. His hand moved once more along her back, slower now, a final pass that settled into stillness when he reached her shoulder.
He did not speak right away. When he did, his voice came low, rough from sleep and everything that followed.
“Stay.”
The word carried no force.
Only the truth of what he wanted.
Her fingers tightened once beneath his hand. She did not lift her head. She did not pull away.
“I am,” she said.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting that settle where it needed to. When he opened them again, nothing had shifted.
She was still there. So, he stayed still with her, letting the morning move forward around them while they held their place inside it.