He moves with me, his hips rising to meet mine. The rhythm builds between us, natural and perfect. His thumb on my clit, his body filling me, the way he looks at me like I’m everything.
“Mine,” he says. “Say it.”
“Yours. I’m yours.”
“That’s right.” His voice breaks. “My girl. Mine to keep. Mine to love.”
The words, combined with the pressure of his thumb and the fullness of him inside me, send me over the edge. I cry out his name, clenching around him.
He follows seconds later, hips jerking, his face buried in my neck, groaning my name like a prayer as he comes.
We collapse together, breathing hard.
“That was…” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Yeah.”
He pulls out carefully, and I wince at the sensitivity. He kisses my forehead, then disposes of the condom and returns with a warm washcloth. He cleans me gently, reverently, checking my face for discomfort with every touch.
“You okay?” he asks. “Sore?”
“A little. Good sore.”
“I wasn’t too rough?”
“You were perfect. Exactly what I needed.”
His shoulders relax, his breathing steadying. “Need anything? Water? Tea? Food?”
“You.”
He climbs into bed and pulls me close, tucking the quilt around us. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
We lie in silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder.
“Holly?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens tomorrow?” His voice is quiet. Careful.
My insides twist. “What do you mean?”
“When the roads are clear. When you go back to town.” He pauses. “Is this… was this because we were stuck up here?”
I push up on my elbow to look at him. “Do you think that’s what this was?”
“No. But I need to know what you think.”
I take a breath. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You scare me and make me feel safe at the same time.” My voice drops. “I think I don’t want this to end.”
His hand cups my face. “Neither do I.”
“But?”
“But I live on a mountain. You live in town. I’m...” He struggles. “I’m not easy to be with. I’m too quiet. Too private. I have days when the grief comes back, and I can’t function. I…”
I press my fingers to his lips. “Stop.”
