“I missed you,” she gasps against my throat. “God, Red, I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I’m stripping off her coat, her sweater, finding bare skin and groaning at the contact. “I thought about you every damn second.”
“Prove it.”
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The bed is too far, but the couch is right here. I lower us both down, and she’s working on my belt, her hands shaking, her breaths coming fast.
“Hey.” I catch her wrists, gently but firm. “Look at me.”
She does. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown.
“We’ve got time,” I say. “There’s no storm—no reason to rush.”
“I don’t want slow.” Her voice breaks. “I need to feel you; I need to know this is real.”
I understand that. The fear that this is temporary, that any second she’ll realize what a mistake this is and leave again. So, I kiss her with everything I have—all the loneliness of the past ten days, all the hope I’ve been trying to extinguish, all the want I’ve been drowning in since she drove away.
Her jeans come off, and mine follow. She’s not wearing anything underneath, and the sight of her—all flushed and ready and here—makes my hands shake.
“No condom,” I say, even though it kills me. “Unless you?—”
“No condom.” She pulls me down. “All of you. Nothing between us.”
I sink into her, and we both go still, our foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air. This is different—this is her choosing to come back, and me choosing to let her in. This is us deciding we want each other.
“Fuck,” I groan.
She rocks her hips. “Move, Red. Please.”
I do. Slowly at first, savoring every sound she makes, every flutter of her body around mine. But she’s impatient, meeting every thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks I’ll feel tomorrow.
I don’t care.
"More. I need?—"
I give her what she’s asking for. The couch creaks under us; the rhythm turning desperate, and I’m drowning in her—the scent of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the way she says my name like she’s worshipping me.
When she comes, it’s with her eyes locked on mine, her whole body arching, and I explode into her, unable to believe she’s real.
I shift enough to keep my full weight off her, but I don’t pull out. I can’t bring myself to break the connection.
“Stay,” I murmur into her hair.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I mean it.” I pull back enough to see her face. “Bring your stuff.”
Her eyes go wide. “Red?—”
“I know it’s fast and crazy.” I cup her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “But I spent ten days in hell without you, and I’m not doing it again. So, if you’re serious about this, about us, then stay. Help me figure out how to do this.”
She’s quiet for so long my heart sinks. Then she smiles—and it’s bright, real, and everything I need.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll need time, and I’ll need to give notice at my apartment. And I’ll still work at the bakery until I can save enough to open my own place. But yeah.” She kisses me, all soft and sweet. “Let’s do this crazy thing.”
