“I’ve never…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing. “I’ve never done this before. Any of this. My parents kept me so isolated, I never even had a real boyfriend. I’m twenty-three years old, and I’ve never been with anyone.”
Something primal surged through me—protective and possessive and hungry all at once. She was trusting me with this. With herself. The weight of it settled into my bones like an anchor.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said, keeping my voice steady even as my heart hammered. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We can take this as slow as you need.”
“What if I don’t want slow?”
The words landed hard. I searched her face for hesitation, for doubt. All I found was certainty.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked.
She nodded.
I leaned in slowly, giving her time to change her mind. She didn’t. My lips brushed hers—gentle at first, testing. She tasted like garlic bread and something sweeter underneath, and when she made a soft sound against my mouth, I was done for.
I deepened the kiss, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her waist to pull her closer. She melted into me, fingers curling into the front of my shirt, and I felt the last of my restraint start to crumble.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dark, her cheeks flushed. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“We don’t have to do anything else tonight,” I managed, even though every cell in my body argued otherwise. “We can wait. Whatever you need.”
She shook her head, her grip on my shirt tightening. “I don’t want to wait. I’ve been waiting my whole life.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I stood and lifted her into my arms in one smooth motion. She gasped, then laughed, her arms wrapping around my neck as I carried her down the hall toward the bedroom. Her weight was nothing. Her warmth was everything.
We were done waiting.
4
SYDNEY
Icouldn't believe I was here, in his arms, being carried down the hallway like I weighed nothing.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a mix of excitement and terror. All my life, I’d been told this was wrong—good girls waited for marriage, good girls didn’t give in to desires of the flesh.
But as Kross nudged open the bedroom door with his shoulder and set me down gently on the edge of the bed, those voices in my head felt farther away. Not gone, but quieter.
I wanted this. I wanted him.
The room was simple, like the rest of the cabin—a queen-size bed with a plaid comforter, a wooden dresser, and a lamp casting a warm glow. No frills. Just like him. He stood in front of me, his hands framing my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like gravel under tires.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes. But…I’m nervous.”
He smiled, that slow, reassuring curve of his lips that made my stomach flip. “That’s okay. We’ll go at your pace. You tell meif you want to stop, or slow down, or anything. This is about you letting go, Sydney. Doing what feels good for you.”
His words wrapped around me like a blanket, easing the knot in my chest. He leaned down and kissed me again, softer this time, his lips coaxing mine open. I sighed into his mouth, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through his shirt.
He pulled back just enough to tug at the hem of my sweater. “Can I take this off?”
My breath hitched. The voices whispered—good girls don’t undress for men they’re not married to—but I pushed them aside.
“Yes,” I said.
He peeled the sweater over my head, his eyes darkening as he took in my plain white bra. Nothing fancy. Nothing I’d ever worn to seduce anyone. But the way he looked at me, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, made heat pool low in my body.
