“So, take your time.”
He does.
One hand lifts the shirt over my head, letting it fall onto the mattress. He pauses to kiss the slope of my shoulder, then my collarbone, his mouth moving warm and steadily across skin that suddenly feels too sensitive.
He kisses down my chest with attention that makes me feel worshipped. I arch into him, not shy now, not when he’s touching me like I’m his queen.
When he drags his tongue over the soft underside of my breast and sucks, I shiver hard enough to shake the bed.
“Red—”
“I know.” His hands stroke my body like he’s been dying to do this slower.
I shift, adjusting my knees, and slide down enough to feel his cock beneath me. I rock gently and his head tips back, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
His eyes open and lock on mine. The vulnerability there steals my breath—like he’s letting me see straight through to the parts he keeps hidden from the world.
“I see you,” I whisper. “All of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
For a second, I think he might look away, and retreat behind those walls. But he doesn’t. He holds my gaze like it costs him everything.
We handle the condom together this time, our hands brushing. When I sink down on him, it’s not with urgency—it’s with a full-body sigh, like I’ve been holding my breath and can finally exhale.
“Oh God,” I whisper, hands braced on his chest.
He groans, hands gripping my thighs, and the sound tells me everything words can’t.
We move together, slowly and rhythmically, our hips rocking in lazy waves. It’s not frantic, or even loud. It’s perfect.
I lean down and kiss him. He meets me halfway, one hand at the nape of my neck, the other gripping my waist like I might float away.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“I’m here,” I whisper back. “I’m right here.”
His eyes glisten for a moment, and I realize this is what love looks like. It’s not just our bodies joining, but our walls coming down.
When I start to shake, he murmurs my name—my real name—and it makes my heart skip a thousand beats. I cry out softly, passion and elation flooding through me in waves. He follows with a low groan, his mouth catching mine, and we ride it out together.
After, I collapse against him, chest to chest, hearts hammering. His hands never stop moving—soothing strokes, gentle passes down my back.
We stay like that for a long time, quiet except for our breathing and Bear snoring by the fire.
Eventually, Red pulls the blanket over us and kisses my shoulder. He hums, but there’s something heavy in the sound.
I prop myself up on one elbow to look at him. “What is it?”
He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer. Then: “I haven’t let anyone this close in three years.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean—” He struggles with the words. “After Martinez died, after everything fell apart, I told myself it was safer this way. Being alone. You can’t lose someone if you never let them in.”
This poor man.
“Red—”
