“Say it again,” he breathes.
I don’t hesitate. “I love you.”
The words settle into the space between us like they’ve always belonged there. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. And then he kisses me. Not with heat. Not with hunger. But with everything. Every unspoken promise. Every quiet morning. Every unguarded look from across a room. Every stolen moment that led to this.
When he pulls back, his voice is rough.
“I’ve loved you since long before I ever had the right to.”
I close my eyes, tears slipping fresh down my cheeks.
And for the first time in a long time I don’t feel scared.
Will’s thumb brushes the tears from my cheeks, but more keep falling. Happy ones. Overwhelmed ones. The kind that only come when your world breaks open in the best possible way.
I don’t say anything. I just pull him down to me.
The kiss starts slow, reverent. But there's a tension under it. My hands find the hem of his shirt, and he lets me pull it up and over his head. My palms slide over his chest, feeling the heat of him, the way his heart thuds hard beneath my touch.
He watches me with eyes full of emotion, hands cupping my face like he’s memorizing it.
“This isn’t just sex anymore,” I whisper, breath catching. “This is everything.”
His forehead touches mine. “It’s always been everything.”
Then he kisses me again and this time, it’s deeper. Hotter. His mouth moves over mine like he’s claiming it, like he’s thanking me with every slow pass of his lips, every scrape of his teeth.
Clothes fall away slowly, piece by piece, between kisses that leave me breathless. There’s no rush. No frantic grabbing. Just his hands gliding over my skin like I’m something precious. Sacred. His.
He lays me down gently on the cot we set up, stretching over me, his weight pressing into mine, grounding me.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing kisses from my throat to the curve of my breast. “I don’t think you even know what you do to me.”
His mouth finds a soft spot beneath my ribs and lingers, worshipful. His hand slides down my thigh, guiding my leg around his waist as he settles between them.
When he finally pushes inside, it’s slow, deep, and deliberate.
I gasp, arching into him, hands fisting in the sheets.
We move together in a rhythm that feels as old as the stars. Not frantic, not rough, but with purpose. With intensity. Like he’s trying to burn this moment into both of us.
“I love you,” I whisper against his neck.
He thrusts deeper. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Again.
“I love you.”
My body tightens around him, breath breaking as I fall apart, wrapped in the strength of his arms and the heat of everything we are. He follows a heartbeat later, groaning my name like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary.
When it’s over, we don’t move.
We just stay there, pressed together, sweat-damp and trembling, hearts beating in sync.
He brushes his lips over my forehead.
