She was here.
And then— there she was.
When Dylan opened the door to his bedroom, he found her sitting on his bed, knees drawn to her chest, his hoodie swallowing her whole.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, her damp hair curling from a shower, her cheeks flushed like she’d been arguing with herself. Or maybe trying not to bolt.
“Hey,” she said, voice too casual to be real. “I figured you’d take forever.”
His heart flipped. “Hey, Ali.”
He dropped his bag and walked toward her, slowly, like if he moved too fast she might vanish. She didn’t. Her gaze tracked him like she couldn’t help it.
When he kissed her, she sighed against his mouth like she’d been holding her breath all week.
They didn’t rush.
They never did.
But this time, the slow burn was too much. He deepened the kiss. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He helped her pull it off and tossed it to the side.
Ali stared at his chest, cheeks flushing.
“You can touch me,” he said, voice low.
Her fingers brushed over his abs, hesitant at first. He groaned softly, catching her wrists and kissing her knuckles.
When she pulled back and peeled off his hoodie, her body stiffened. She was down to her bralette and comfy shorts— bare skin and soft curves she was clearly trying to hide, arms folding around herself almost instinctively.
“I know I’m not—” she started, but he shook his head.
“Stop.” He stepped in, gently catching her chin so she’d look at him. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Ali Presley. You always have been.”
Her lip trembled.
“I mean it,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve wanted you since sophomore year in high school. Every curve. Every inch. Every version of you.”
She gave him a small, nervous smile— and then tugged her bralette over her head.
Dylan’s breath caught in his throat.
She stood there— fully exposed, vulnerable and trembling— and it hit him like a tidal wave. Not just how beautiful she was, but what this moment meant.
“I haven’t… um, I mean I’ve never,” she whispered, barely audible, voice trailing off and eyes darting to the side.
He swallowed. “I know.”
Ali’s eyes searched his face. “Is that… okay?”
Dylan leaned forward, kissing the hollow of her throat, down to the swell of her chest. He let his hands trail reverently over her hips, her back, her thighs.
“It’s more than okay,” he said. “You’re trusting me with this. I’m never gonna forget that, Ali. I swear.”
When she nodded, he kissed her again— deep, slow, all tongue and heat and soft sounds. He guided her to his bed, laying her down gently, making sure her head rested on his pillow. He took his time—removing the rest of their clothes between kisses, his hands learning every soft dip and curve like he was memorizing a map.
She was shaking beneath him, not in fear— but in anticipation. And when he asked if she was sure, she gave the smallest but most powerful “yes” he’d ever heard.
He moved over her slowly. Worshipfully.
