Owned.
Loved.
I don’t know how long it lasted.I just remember the feeling.It was almost like I experienced every emotion in that moment, completely captivated by him.
The way he made me feel like we weren’t just having sex, we weremaking something.
Something real.
Something permanent.
After, I curled into his chest, heart still stuttering like it hadn’t caught up to the rest of me.
He kissed my shoulder.Played with my hair.Let me trace circles on his ribs with my fingertips.
But after a while, he shifted.Groaned a little.Pulled away gently.
“I have an early morning,” he said, already sitting up, grabbing his pants.“I hate this.I don’t want to rush out after what we just had.”
My smile faltered.Just for a second.
I felt a crack form then...He was leaving?
I didn’t want him to leave.Not after that.Not aftereverything.
And I guess my face gave me away...
Because he turned, knelt beside me, and brushed a hand down my cheek.
"I am an old man, Cassidy," he said with a self-deprecating laugh, "Don't hold it against me...I don't have anything here for the morning, and I will sleep better in my own bed...I need my beauty sleep..."He trailed his hand up to my hair, brushing it from my still-sweaty brow and tucking it behind my ear."I can bring stuff here for next time...I hate having to leave you.I wish we had planned this better..."
And then he gave me those words for the first time.
“I love you,” he said.
Three words.Just like that.
Like he wasn’t afraid of them.
Like they were true.
And I believed him.
Ineededto believe him.
Because if he loved me… then everything made sense.
The privacy.The distance.The not-staying.
Right?
He loved me.
He was busy.
He had an early morning.
He’d stay next time.
