“So fucking pretty.”
His head drops, lips circling my clit and sucking deep. My head falls back, knocking on the door, but I can’t focus on anything but the way he feels on me, the way his fingers bruise my thighs, and the way his tongue flicks over my clit. My eyes snap open to look at him, and when I do, he’s standing, tugging his sweater off in one smooth move, tossing it aside without a care.
“I want to eat that all fucking night, Hallie. I really do. But right now, what I really need is to be inside of you.” I nod, eyes wide.
“Yes,” I say, and he laughs as I step closer, his hands hesitating on the button of his jeans. I reach up, brushing his hair back and looking in his eyes. Even now, even in this moment of need and desire, I need him to know it’s not just one night, like last time.
“We’ve got time for the extras. This first time, I just want you.”
It’s written clearly on his face, the understanding of what I’m saying crashing over him—joy and acceptance and gratitude I don’t deserve.
In that moment, I knew for sure he would wait an eternity if I asked it of him. He’d wait for me for as long as needed, and that means more to me than he’ll ever know.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait, and he knows that now. He bends, grabbing my hips and lifting me again. His lips are on mine as he takes long strides to his bed, then tosses me onto it, just like that first time. I find a giggle leaving my lips, and I hope it’s always like this with us—fun, hot, and filled with need but also friendship.
God, I love this man.
The thought crashes through me, a realization that isn’t necessarily new or groundbreaking, but still, I sit with it as he starts to undo the button on his jeans. I find that it’s not scary at all, just warm, comfortable, and safe.
Just like the man before me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock bobs free, and my lips part, my pussy tightening with sudden need, and I say the first thing that comes to mind.
It’s not a prolific confession of love.
“Please, for the love of God, tell me you brought a condom.”
He lets out a deep laugh that fills the room, reaching for his pants, forgotten on the ground. His pecs flex, and I lick my lips,taking in his naked upper half as he rifles through his pocket, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a condom, then tossing it on the bed. I sigh with relief before he tosses the wallet on the ground and takes two long, prowling steps toward the bed, climbing on. His movements are graceful and precise, and just like last time, he dips his head to my ankle, pressing a kiss there, then to my calf.
Despite the need, desire, and feat, suddenly my throat gets tight.
Jesse has never hidden anything from me, not when it comes to how he feels. He may have played things down to avoid scaring me off, but he has always deeply cared for me. That night, he was showing me the same things he’s showing me now—pressing a kiss to my thigh and then my hip. He loves me, every bit, every inch, even the flawed, scared part of me.
“Wait, wait,” I say, trying to keep my head on straight when he reaches my belly. He raises his eyebrow at me and smiles.
“Is this your kink?” he asks, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head before moving to my knees and then grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward me.
“No. I just. I want…” I take a deep breath, trying to muster the courage before I close my eyes. We’re on our knees before each other on the bed, and I reach up to cup his jaw, my thumb moving on his mustache I am so obsessed with. “I love you, Jesse King,” I whisper into the room. It’s too soon—far, far, too soon—but also, it’s so late. Because I’ve loved Jesse for years, my feelings have evolved, but I can’t deny that over the past few months it’s become glaringly apparent.
I am head over heels in love with Jesse King.
He takes in a deep breath, and his face goes blank for a moment, and panic fills me. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it was the wrong time. Maybe…
“Fuck, I wanted to take this slow,” he says. I stare at him, confused. “But now I’ve gotta fuck you.”
“That was kind of the goal,” I say with a laugh, but then the breath is gone from my lungs as he takes the condom from my hands and pushes me to my back. I watch with rapt attention as he rolls the condom on, and he smirks at me when a small squeak of arousal leaves my lips. Then he shifts down my body and starts where he ended, kissing between my breasts, then one nipple and the other—my collarbone, my shoulder, kissing me as he goes. For a single lucid moment, I wonder if this ishiskink.
I can’t say I wouldn’t be into that.
When he makes it to my face, he holds himself above me and presses a long, sweet kiss to my lips.
“I don’t know when I fell in love with you. I think it happened slowly, over time. You took a little bit of my heart here and there until one day I woke up and realized I didn’t have it anymore. But I know the moment I realized I was crazy for you, and there was no going back.”
“The Mill?” I ask, filling in. Part of me fell in love with him when I was a teenager, back when I would have done anything for him to just smileat me, but I fell hard the day he found me in the woods. It became unavoidable—and unignorable—when he told me he’d wait, and I came to terms with it that night when he held me in his childhood bed.
“No, no. God, I was already far gone by then.” He lines his cock up with my entrance, and I hold my breath, but he doesn’t push in; instead, he settles over me, keeping my eyes. “I fell in love with you a year ago, here in Vermont, that first time I caught you. That night, I realized I would do anything to ensure you never fell without my being there to catch you. I’ve been waiting for you to fall ever since.”
The lump forms in my throat again, and it hits me just how long we’ve been building to this moment.
