“You’re the perfect book boyfriend.” My voice was hot and heavy.
“Say it again when you’re making a mess for me.” He grunted and then pushed up into me slowly. My body opened around him, welcoming him back inside like he wasn’t just there last night.
“Oh my God,” I choked out, my fingers digging into his shoulders. The way he was filling me was so intense, it stole whatever air I thought I had left.
“That’s it,” he muttered, voice rough against my ear. “Take all of it.”
I sank the rest of the way down on him. For a second, neither of us moved. Water lapped at my back, and the light in the cave had us both glowing. It didn’t feel real, any of this.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I whispered, forehead resting against his as he rocked into me.
“Say it feels good,” he said, one hand running up my spine, steadying me. “Say you love how good I fuck you.”
“I love the way you . . . fuck me,” I confessed, half laughing, half moaning. “I love how we’re in a cave . . . on Valentine’s Day . . . and you’re inside me.”
“And?” His mouth brushed my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my lips.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I practically screamed.
“I’m not stopping, baby.” His hands slid back down to my hips, fingers spreading, holding me in place as he rolled up into me. The pleasure hit hard and sharp.
“Shit!”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Feel that, Lowe. That’s all you.”
Feel it, I did. I felt every deliberately slow thrust he made inside me. I braced my hands on his shoulders and tried a small roll of my hips just to see what would happen. The answer was my eyes almost crossing.
“Fu-uck.” I panted after the word broke apart on my tongue. “Yes. Yes.”
“Do it again,” he growled. His palm landed on my ass, smacking it hard enough to make it sting.
“O-oh!” My voice cracked as I indeed did it again, a little harder that time. I rode him slow, circling my hips, letting him hit that one spot that made my thighs tremble over and over. He met every movement with his own, like we’d been doing this forever, like he knew my body better than I did. His hands guided me, jaw clenched, eyes locked on my face like he didn’t want to miss a single reaction.
“That’s it,” he said. “Look at me, Lowe. There you go. Just like that. You feel how good you got me?”
“Mmm!”
I could feel myself falling apart, and it wasn’t just because of the sex. It was everything that came before it—him waking up early to meet the florist, remembering some throwaway video I’d made for strangers on the internet and using it like a blueprint for my dream day. It was the way he always showed up when my car broke down, when my cramps had me crying on FaceTime, when a brand deal went left, and I wanted to delete all my pages and disappear.
He’d been wonderful and thoughtful and consistent in my life for years, and in that moment, I couldn’t picture myself letting anybody else this close—not to my body, not to my brain, not to my mess. It was like my heart had quietly decided before my head could catch up.
“This don’t feel real,” I admitted on a broken exhale, still moving on him. His hand slid up, wrapping gently around theback of my neck, thumb resting against my throat—not choking, just holding me there, holding me still so I had to look at him.
“It’s real,” he said quietly, eyes gazing into mine as he thrust up into me harder, and deeper. “All of it. Me and you. Right here.”
My knees shook with every roll of my hips. I leaned in and kissed him, swallowing his groan.
“Hasheem.” I breathed against his mouth. “I?—”
“I know,” he said. “I feel you.” He slid one hand between us, his thumb finding that sensitive spot and working slow, deliberate circles. The combination of him filling me and that focused pressure made my head spin.
“Wait,” I begged, even as my body pushed closer to him. “Just give me a second.”
“For what?” he asked, thumb and hips still moving. “You been running from this long enough. I’m never letting up.”
The words hit me almost as hard as the pleasure did. I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, the cave walls echoing every ragged breath back at me.
“When we leave Zanzibar,” he murmured in my ear, voice rough, “I still want this. I still want us.”
