When I slide inside her, we both freeze. Her eyes lock on mine in the dim light filtering through the curtains. I can see everything in her face—desire and gratitude and something that looks like wonder.
"Thank you," she whispers. "For today. For caring. For seeing what this means to me."
The words stick in my throat again.I love you.The ones I should say. The ones she deserves to hear. Instead, I kiss her and hope she feels what I can't say. Pour it into the way I touch her, the way I move inside her.
I start slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Savoring the feel of her around me, tight and wet and perfect. She wraps her legs around my waist and tilts her hips up, changing the angle, and we both moan.
"Is this okay?" I ask, voice rough.
"More than okay." Her hands slide down my back, nails digging in. "Don't stop."
I don't. Keep the steady rhythm even as she starts to move with me, meeting each thrust. The bed creaks softly beneath us and I think about Connor, about Jim in the garage, about the risk. But then Lucy makes that sound—the desperate little gasp that means I'm hitting the right spot—and I stop thinking altogether.
I brace myself on one forearm and slide my other hand between us, finding the spot that makes her gasp louder. She bites her lip, trying to stay quiet, and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"Let me hear you," I murmur against her ear. "Just a little."
She does. Soft whimpers and breathy moans that make me want to slow down and speed up all at once. I feel her tightening around me, her breathing getting faster, and I know she's close.
"Come for me," I say quietly. "I want to feel it."
Her inner walls flutter, then clench hard around me. She arches up, pressing her chest against mine, and I feel the exact moment she tips over. The way her whole body goes taut, then shudders. She buries her face in my shoulder to muffle the cry, and the feel of her coming apart around me is almost enough to pull me under.
Almost. But I want more. Want to give her more.
I wait until the aftershocks ease, then start moving again. Slow and deep. Her eyes fly open, surprised, and I see the moment she realizes I'm not done with her yet.
"Ryder—"
"Again," I say. "Want to feel you come again."
"I can't—" But her body says otherwise. She's already sensitive, already building again, and when I shift the angle just slightly, she gasps.
This time it's faster. Her body knows what's coming, knows what I can give her. I watch her face as the pleasure builds—the way her lips part, the flush spreading down her neck, the little crease between her brows. She's so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
When she comes the second time, it pulls me over with her. I bury my face in her neck and let go, feeling her clench around mein waves as I empty myself inside her. The pleasure is so intense it's almost painful, and I think I might say her name. Might say other things too.
When I can breathe again, when the stars behind my eyelids fade, I realize I'm crushing her. I try to move but she holds me tight.
"Stay," she whispers. "Just for a minute."
So I do. Stay buried inside her, feeling our hearts pound against each other, feeling her breath against my neck. And I know, with absolute certainty, that I'm in love with her.
Have been for a while now, probably. But this moment—her trust, her gratitude, her body still trembling beneath mine—seals it.
I'm in love with Lucy Wright, and I'm in so much trouble.
After, we lie tangled together in my bed, both of us knowing we're pushing our luck. Connor could be home any minute. But neither of us wants to move.
"Stay," I whisper into her hair. "Just a little longer."
"Okay." She presses closer, her breath warm against my neck. "A little longer."
But we both know she'll have to sneak back to her room soon, before anyone notices.
She settles against my chest. I hold her while our breathing evens out. While the sweat cools on our skin.
Three words press against my throat.
