When we made it to the bedroom, his weight settled over me, and I tugged at his shirt.
"Off. This needs to be off immediately."
He silenced me with his mouth. Pulled back just long enough to strip the shirt over his head, then returned to kissing me like I was oxygen and he'd been holding his breath.
He spread his fingers over my ribs and then slid them down to my hips. I squirmed under him, impatient, and he pressed me down with one hand flat on my stomach.
"Stay," he murmured against my throat.
"I'm not good at staying. I'm a motion-based organism—"
"Pickle."
"Yeah?"
"Let me." His lips found the pulse point below my jaw.
I froze.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay."
He undressed me slowly. Each piece of clothing removed with care. When he got to my boxers—the ones with the cartoon penguins—he paused.
"Penguins," I said. "They mate for life."
"You told me about the pebbles."
He remembered. He pulled the boxers down, and I was naked.
"You're staring," I said.
"I'm looking."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing." He lowered himself over me, skin to skin. When he pressed into me, he was watching my face the whole time.
"Good?" he asked.
"Yeah. So good."
He started to move. Slow. Deep. "I've got you."
I've got you.
Three words. Simple. They landed in my gut and stayed there.
"Adrian," I breathed. Just his name, because I needed to say it.
"I'm here," he said. "I'm right here."
He shifted his angle, and I gasped. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. We moved together, his rhythm steady, building me toward that inevitable moment.
"You're thinking," he said.
"I'm always thinking."
"What about?"
