“I didn’t want to tell anyone,” he says. “But tonight… I just needed someone to know.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
He leans back against the cushions, eyes closing.
I don’t know how long we sit there—just the two of us, wrapped in silence, his hand in mine like a lifeline.
Ash hasn’t said another word since he told me. But his body speaks plenty.
When I shift the tiniest bit, he follows—leaning in, like the gravity between us has changed.
And when I move my hand to his chest, gentle and slow, just to rest it over his heart, he exhales for the first time in what feels like forever.
Then, without a word, he moves with me.
We lie down together on the couch—awkwardly at first, limbs tangling, the leather creaking beneath us—but then he settles. Wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in close.
Closer than I expected.
His head rests just above mine, chin near my hair. His breath is warm against the top of my head. And his hold on me is steady. Strong.
Not crushing. But…intentional.
Like he needs this. Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, something inside him might unravel completely. So I let him hold me.
My eyes start to drift closed.
I should pull away. I should move. Say something light to break the tension.
But I don’t want to.
I like the way he holds me. Like I matter.
And somewhere between his soft breath and the quiet hum of the night, I feel sleep pulling me under.
***
Morning light is stretching through the curtains in soft golden stripes, warming the edges of the room. I blink awake to the feeling ofwarmth.Solid. Heavy. Comforting.
And male.
Ash’s arm is around me. We’re spooning. Fully clothed. But very, very close.
His breath brushes the back of my neck in slow, steady exhales. One of his hands is splayed low over my stomach, and my entire body is tense—not from discomfort, but fromawareness.
And then I feel it.
Oh.
Oh no.
He has a hard-on. A very real, very unmistakable boner pressed up behind me.
My breath catches.
I don’t move. Ican’tmove.
Because the worst part isn’t that he’s hard—that’s just biology, right? It’s that Ilikeit. The press of him. The heat. Theway his body instinctively curves around mine, protective and possessive in a way that makes my insides melt.
