Caspian’s smile softens, and he leans in to press another quick kiss to my lips before pulling back to unpack the bags. “I made maple-and-cheese scones,” he says, pulling out a container that’s still slightly warm. “And I brought that artisanal bread you like, some fruit, and that aged cheddar I saw in your fridge before.”
I watch him moving around my kitchen with easy familiarity, putting things away like he knows exactly where they belong. Because he does. When did that happen? When did he learn all my preferences, habits, the organization of my kitchen?
“For dinner,” he continues, pulling out more containers, “I made a hearty vegetable soup. Perfect for this weather. And there’s this.” He produces a final box with a flourish. “Apple pie. I know it’s not as exciting as maple pie, but…”
“It’s perfect,” I say, meaning more than just the food. Everything about this moment feels perfect—Caspian in my kitchen, caring for me in these small but significant ways, the comfortable domesticity of it all.
I move behind Caspian as he’s arranging the containers on the counter, pressing my chest against his back and wrapping my arms around his waist. “How hungry are you?” I murmur against his ear.
He leans back into me, his breath catching slightly. “I could wait.”
“Will dinner keep?” I ask, sliding my hands under his sweater to feel the warm skin beneath.
“Y-yes,” he stammers, tilting his head to give me better access as I trail kisses down his neck. “Everything can be reheated.”
In one fluid motion, I spin him around and lift him onto the counter, stepping between his legs. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at me, and I can’t resist capturing his lips in a heated kiss. His legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.
“You know,” I say between kisses, “I believe you owe me something from earlier.”
His laugh turns into a gasp as I nip at his collarbone. “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm.” I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about having you inside me all afternoon.”
The way his pupils dilate at my words sends heat coursing through my body. “Yeah?”
Instead of answering, I grab his thighs and lift him off the counter. He yelps in surprise, arms automatically wrapping around my neck as I carry him toward the bedroom. When we reach the bed, I let myself fall backward, bringing him down on top of me.
“I’m ready for you,” I whisper against his lips.
His eyes widen slightly at the implication, and then he’s kissing me like he wants to devour me whole. And I let him because I trust him. Because I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Because somehow, in the short time I’ve known him, he’s become everything I never knew I was missing.
The realization almost stops me, but I’m way too gone for this man to stop now.
Caspian straddles my hips, his weight a delicious pressure. The warm lamplight catches the tan tones of his skin as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head, never breaking eye contact. My breath catches at the sight of him above me, and I can’t resist running my hands up his thighs to rest on his waist.
Caspian’s hands find my waist, fingers brushing against the waistband of my sweatpants. The touch sends a shiver through me.
“You’re so strong,” Caspian whispers, his gaze roaming over me with such reverence that I feel my cheeks heat.
“I’d argue you’re the strong one here, Cas. You moved all the way across the country for a dream. I’m in awe of you.”
Caspian blushes at my words but quickly recovers with a playful grin. “Someone’s wearing too many pants for this conversation to continue.”
“Ditto.”
Caspian chuckles, his hands moving to my shoulders as he uses me as leverage to stand up. “Your wish is my command.” He shimmies out of his jeans and panties in one smooth motion, kicking them aside, and then he helps me out of mine.
My breath catches. Even though we’ve seen each other naked before, this feels different. More intimate. More real.
Caspian comes back to bed, but this time, I open my legs, and he gets the message. Our cocks line up, but he ignores them and instead cups my face in his hands. “You still good?”
I nod, leaning into his touch. “More than good. Just…a little nervous.”
“We’ll take it slow,” he promises, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’ve got you.”
He reaches for the nightstand, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. A thrill runs through me—a mix of anticipation and nerves.
“Talk to me,” Caspian says, his voice gentle. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
