Chapter 8
Stella
The drive to my house is less than fifteen minutes, but sitting in his car—with his hand resting on my bare thigh—it feels like it takes hours.
We haven’t said a word since getting in.
We didn’t need to. I felt the tension between us the moment my hands slipped into his back pocket, felt the evidence of his want for me pressed tight against his jeans.
If his fingers moved just a little higher, he’d know mine matched his—pulse for pulse, breath for breath.
He pulls up behind the house, shifts the car into park, and steps out. A second later, he’s at my door, reaching for me like he can’t stand the space between us.
I take his hand, and he helps me out. The moment the door shuts behind us, he leans in, his mouth crashing into mine with a kind of urgency that’s been simmering all night. I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into the kiss, letting it pull everything else away.
He steps forward, one hand sliding beneath my skirt, resting on my thigh. The warmth of his palm there makes my skin buzz.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to look at me, really look.
Something intense flickers in his eyes before he dips down, brushing his lips along the curve of my jaw, then lower.
His mouth finds that spot on my neck that makes my knees weak, just as his fingers begin tracing slow circles over my panties.
My breath hitches. I spread my legs slightly, silently begging for more, and press my hips forward into his hand.
“Fuck, Donovan… that feels so good,” I whisper, barely able to speak as sensation takes over.
Then, in one quick motion, his hand leaves me.
He grips my thighs, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the trunk of the car and sets me down gently, his eyes never leaving mine.
I lean back on my elbows, heart racing, skin tingling.
He crouches, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my lace panties, slowly sliding them down my legs.
It’s reckless, being out here like this, but the way he touches me makes the rest of the world vanish.
I’d let him ruin me right here, under the night sky, and beg for more.
A soft moan escapes me as he parts my thighs. His fingers trace the slick heat between my legs, slow and deliberate, until he finds the spot that makes me tremble. My spine arches as his touch grows more confident, more focused. The pleasure builds, slow and steady, curling up my spine like smoke.
Then his fingers slide lower, and he pushes one inside me with aching patience.
“God damn it, Stella,” he groans, voice low and reverent. “You’re so wet for me.”
He pulls out, then slides in again, this time with two fingers, moving deeper with a tenderness that knocks the breath out of me. He leans in, his tongue flicking softly against my clit, and my hips rise to meet him.
My fingers find the back of his head, holding him close, needing him closer. I feel everything all at once—his fingers inside me, his mouth working in slow rhythm, the way he moans softly every time I gasp his name.
“Donovan,” I cry out, the sound half a moan, half a plea. “Don’t stop, right there, please don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he murmurs into me. “I’ve got you. Let go for me.”
His fingers curl, hitting just the right spot, and I shatter. My climax rolls through me, sharp and consuming, my body trembling as he stays with me through it, mouth and hands moving in perfect sync until I can’t take anymore.
When he finally lifts his head, he’s smiling—soft, smug, and completely wrecked. My release is still on his lips. He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine, both of us breathless.
“You undo me,” he whispers, as if he can’t believe it’s real.
I kiss him, tasting myself on his mouth, breathing him in like I need him to live.
“Take me inside,” I whisper against his lips, my voice low and sure. “I’m not done with you.”
I hear the rumble of the trash truck outside just as I jolt awake.
I try to sit up, but the weight and warmth of Donovan is wrapped around me, holding me in place.
The scent of our bodies lingers in my sheets, reminding me of the perfect night we shared.
I reach blindly for my phone on the nightstand.
“Shit. Shit. Donovan!” I shake his shoulder. “Hey, D, come on, we’ve gotta get up!”
It’s 7:25 a.m.
Class starts for Donovan in twenty minutes. My flight to Virginia leaves in an hour.
Panic kicks in as I push him off me and throw the covers back. I start scrambling around the room, grabbing clothes and shoving them haphazardly into my suitcase.
When I glance back, Donovan’s still in my bed, sitting against the headboard like he has all the time in the world. My maroon comforter is pooled at his waist, his hands casually laced behind his head.
He looks annoyingly perfect.
“What are you doing?” I shout, breathless. “You’re about to be late for work, and I cannot miss my plane!” I grab his pants from the floor and toss them at him.
Donovan grins like a man with no regrets. “Stella, how am I supposed to get out of your bed and get dressed when you’re running around with your perfect tits and delicious ass on display?”
He stands and walks over, his presence immediately stealing the air from the room. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s rough and deep, backing me into the bathroom door frame.
Heat flares between my legs. For a second, I want nothing more than to wrap myself around him again and feel him buried deep inside me. But I force myself to pull away.
“As much as I’d love round two, or rather, round four,” I murmur, kissing him hard once more. “I can’t miss my flight.”
I duck under his arm, still breathless, and grab the nearest clothes I can find.
I shimmy into my go-to black leggings, throw on a fitted black tank top, then yank Donovan’s black shirt from the night before and shrug into it. It still smells like him, a woodsy, masculine scent with a soft hint of lavender. Comfort wrapped in cotton.
Donovan buttons his shirt while I zip up my bag. Somehow, we’re both ready in record time.
We step out the back door, and I lock up and set the alarm.
As we descend the stoop toward my car, he laces his fingers through mine.
I glance up at him, and his expression has shifted, quiet and contemplative.
Something heavy flickers behind his eyes.
I stop and wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek against his chest. That same lavender note grounds me, reminds me I’m loved and not alone. I close my eyes and breathe him in.
“Donovan, look at me,” I say gently, cupping his face in both hands. He meets my gaze, those eyes of his warring with too many emotions at once.
I kiss him hard, like I mean it. Like I’m leaving a piece of myself with him.
As I turn to get into the car, I pause with my hand on the door and say what’s on my heart.
“I know this is going to be hard. We just found our way back to each other, and now we have to spend two weeks apart. But this won’t last forever.
It’ll be over before we know it. My heart has been yours since high school, D.
There’s no one else for me. We’ll figure out what’s next together.
I love you.” Tears sting my eyes as I start to climb in, but before I can close the door, Donovan yanks it open again.
He crouches to eye level, voice rough but steady.
“I love you with every fiber of my being, Stella. You are it for me. My beginning, my middle, my always. Two weeks is nothing. I’d wait two lifetimes if it meant I still got to be yours.
We’ll call, we’ll video chat, I’ll send you pictures until your phone begs for mercy, and if that’s not enough, I’ll write you letters soaked in my cologne just to hold you a little closer.
This distance won’t break us. It’ll remind us just how worth it this love is. ”
He kisses me one more time—slowly, deeply, and certainly—then closes the door with care.
I drive away with him still watching from the curb, already counting down the days until I’m back in his arms.