Rava
Who would’ve told me this is how I’d end up?
In a hotel bed in a different country, with Fontana on me, and me playing with his hair. His head is resting on my stomach, and I’m just twisting little strands of his hair around my fingers, slowly, over and over, watching them spring back, watching him relax more every time I do it.
It’s weirdly quiet. If someone from my old life could see me right now, they’d think I got replaced by an alien.
But I’m not panicking.
I’m not panicking.
I stop. My hand stills in his hair, because I realize what I’m doing. Not the touching.
The wayI’m doing it.
I’m being soft and careful, like I’m scared to break him, like I care too much.
He pulls back just a little. "You okay?"
I nod. Lie. "Yeah. Just…" I shift under him slightly. "I don’t know. I spaced out."
He watches me closely, and then he does exactly what I was scared he’d do. He shifts higher on me.
His head leaves my stomach and ends up on my chest. Now he’s almost fully on top of me.
He kisses my neck. "You’re allowed to think, you know. Even with me on top of you."
I manage a smile. "Dangerous thought."
He raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
I don’t answer right away. He’s making it so fucking hard. One second he’s calling me desperate, and the next he’s sucking me off like he’s the desperate one.
One second he’s mocking my tattoo, then staring at it like he wants to lick the ink right off my skin. He says I’m annoying, and then rubs slow circles on my thumb to calm me down.
And the way he ate me out in the shower?
That wasn’t casual. That was him doing me the way I do him.
And I already know I like him.
"We’re getting good at this," I murmur. "You and me."
His mouth curls. "Yeah. Practice makes perfect."
"But it wasn’t supposed to feel… easy."
"It’s not easy," he says softly.
Our eyes meet. There it is. That thing we’re not naming.
I look at him too long, and he looks back just as long. I love it and I absolutely hate it at the same time. I don’t pull away, and he doesn’t either.
I should kiss him again, but I don’t. "Do you think about what happens when I leave?"
Yeah, I know. Killed the vibe.
But we already crossed the damn line, someone had to say it. We shouldn’t act like this question wasn’t coming.
