When I look up, she’s staring at me with something I’m not sure either of us is ready for—something real, something that scares the shit out of me.
“If we do this,” I say, voice rough and honest, “there’s no going back.We don’t get to pretend tomorrow, that this didn’t happen.”
She reaches for my hair, tugging gently.
“I don’t want to go back,” she whispers.“Only forward.With you.”
That hits harder than any orgasm could.
I run my hands over her waist, memorizing the feel of her—the softness, the warmth, the way she fits in my palms.She gasps, arching into me like her body already knows mine.
She tugs me down until we’re skin to skin, and the heat between us steals whatever’s left of my restraint.Her hands move over my chest and then lower, fingers brushing the waistband of my jeans.I help her push them down, and when her hand wraps around me, I almost lose it right there.
“I need you,” she breathes into my ear, her voice wrecked.“All of you.”
My hands are shaking as I reach for the drawer.The condom feels like the last thin line between sanity and whatever this night is pulling us into.My fingers fumble the wrapper, and she watches me—really watches me—seeing exactly how much I’m holding together by a thread.
I settle between her thighs again, positioning myself, but I stop.I have to.
“Are you sure?”I ask, my voice quieter than I mean it to be.“We don’t have to?—”
She looks right at me, steady and certain.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
My heart is going insane in my chest, pounding so hard I swear she can hear it.
“I need you to tell me if anything feels like too much, okay?”My voice comes out rough, closer to a plea than I meant it to be.
She nods, and the second I push into her, we both gasp—like our bodies have been waiting eight months to breathe again.She’s so tight I have to clamp down on every goddamn instinct in my body just to stay still for a second.One wrong move and I’m gone.
“For the record,” I manage, my forehead pressed to hers, “I’ve never been more sure of anything either.”
“Move,” she whispers, nails digging into my back.“Please, Nate.”
There’s no universe where I could deny her that.I start slow, trying to find a rhythm that won’t break me in half.But she meets every thrust with this desperate, needy pull of her hips, and my control starts slipping fast.Her legs tighten around my waist, dragging me deeper, and my brain short-circuits.
The sounds—hers, mine, ours—they hit me harder than anything.She says my name like it’s the only one that’s ever mattered, and I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to walk away from this tomorrow.
“Harder.”
One word and I give her everything.
The bed knocks against the wall, our movements messy and unrestrained, but it doesn’t matter.Nothing matters except her—her breath against my throat, her fingers gripping my shoulders like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.I feel her getting close, her body tightening around me, breath breaking apart.
“Come for me,” I whisper into her ear, because I need it—I need to feel her let go with me.
She does.
God, she does.
Her whole body tightens and she cries out my name and it ruins me.I follow her instantly, burying my face in her neck as everything inside me comes undone.
It’s too much and not enough and exactly right all at once.When the world finally stops spinning, I pull back just enough to see her.
Her hair’s stuck to her face, her lips are swollen, her chest is still rising and falling fast.And the way she’s looking at me—like I’m something she almost trusts again—hits so hard it borders on pain.
That’s when it lands: I’m fucked.
