"What's wrong?" she whispered, safe in the cage of his arms.
"Nothing's wrong." He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in. "Everything's perfect."
The words felt heavy.
Then his mouth was on hers again, and any more questions she had died in her throat.
Right now, she just wanted to hold onto this moment. This man. This feeling of being cherished and safe and loved.
Hannah barely registeredthe moment Jake lifted her into his arms. One second, she was standing at the top of the stairs, breathless from his kiss, and the next, she was pressed against the door to her apartment, his body flush against hers, heat radiating between them.
"Jake," she gasped as his hands framed her face, his forehead pressed to hers. His breath was ragged, his fingers flexing against her skin like he was trying to anchor himself.
He fumbled the door open, kicking it shut behind them. Then his mouth was on hers again, leaving no space between them. Her fingers scrambled at his shirt, tugging at the hem, needing to feel him. Jake groaned as her hands greedily sliding over the taut muscles of his stomach. He broke the kiss just long enough for her to yank the shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
He moved fast, urgent, stripping away her clothes between kisses, between breaths, between whispered praises murmured against her skin.
"God, Hannah," he muttered against her collarbone, his mouth hot and open, dragging down the column of her throat.
He guided her back toward the bed, his hands on her waist, his grip firm but reverent. The backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she fell onto the cool sheets, Jake following, his weight pressing her down in the most intoxicating way.
His lips traveled lower, mapping every inch of her body like he needed to memorize it. Hannah writhed beneath him, pleasure licking up her spine, pooling low in her belly.
"Jake," she gasped, her fingers in his hair, tugging when his mouth teased along her hipbone.
"Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips curving against her skin. "I want to take my time with you."
But when she pulled him up and met his gaze, he was already breaking, barely holding on.
"Now," she whispered, her voice shaking with need. "I need you now."
He nodded, reaching for the nightstand. Hannah watched as he tore open the foil packet, his hands steady even as his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
Then he was back, settling into the cradle of her hips, pressing inside her in one perfect, aching stroke.
Hannah cried out, arching into him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He was deep, thick, stretching her open in the most perfect way.
"Jesus," Jake groaned, dropping his forehead against hers. His body was rigid, his arms trembling as he fought for control. "You—fuck—you feel so good."
He pulled back and thrust again, deeper this time, making her whimper.
And then, he said it.
"I love you."
The words hit her like a thunderclap, stealing her breath.
His hips snapped forward again, harder now, needier, and he said it again.
"I love you, Hannah."
She gasped, her pleasure building, but Jake just kept moving, kept thrusting, his hands gripping her thighs, pulling her closer like he couldn't bear any space between them.
"I love you," he growled, burying his face against her neck, his breath hot and uneven. "I love you—I love you—I love you."
She felt it in every thrust, every squeeze of his fingers, every frantic press of his lips to her skin.
This wasn't just sex. It wasn't just heat and desperation. It was everything.
