I move to the couch. He disappears down the hallway with Nugget and comes back a minute later, alone this time.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod.
He hesitates for a second, then sinks onto the couch beside me. Close. Close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.
I glance at him, heart fluttering. The firelight paints shadows across his face, sharp and soft all at once. He looks too good, too real, too solid beside me. Like safety in human form.
“So…” I say lightly, trying not to sound breathless. “Does the one-weekend deal include you?”
His head turns slowly.
I try to laugh it off. “I’m joking.”
“I’m not,” he says.
That shuts me up.
“I’m not part of the deal,” he goes on, voice low, steady. “But I want to be. If you want me.”
My breath catches. My heart pounds against my ribs like it wants out.
He’s not teasing. He’s not playing. He’s looking at me like I matter. Like he means every word.
“I do,” I whisper.
That’s all it takes.
He reaches for me like I’m something breakable. One hand cups the back of my neck. The other slides around my waist, pulling me closer, firm and warm and careful.
Then he kisses me again.
And this time, it’s not sweet.
It’s slow. Deep. Hungry.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes the whole world drop away. That makes my body lean in and say yes without waiting for permission.
At some point, we make it to the bedroom.
I don’t even remember crossing the hall, just the sound of the door closing.
He backs me toward the bed, his mouth still on mine, his hands steady as they slide down my arms and find the hem of my shirt.
Then he stills.
“You sure about this?” he asks, voice thick, breath warm against my jaw. “You can tell me no.”
I nod, then say it out loud so he hears it for real. “Yes. I’m sure.”
His exhale is long. Like he’s been holding his breath since the first look we shared.
My shirt comes off slowly. Hands tracing skin like every inch matters.
But when his fingers find the waistband of my leggings, I pause.
“I should tell you something,” I murmur, heart racing. “I’ve never… I haven’t…”
