"Are you sure?" He was shaking with the effort of holding back. "We don't have to?—"
"Alex." She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m on the pill. Stop thinking and just?—"
He pushed inside her.
The feeling was indescribable—tight, wet heat enveloping him as Lily gasped beneath him. Alex had to freeze, breathing hard, fighting for control.
"God," he managed. "You feel?—"
"I know." She rolled her hips experimentally, and they both groaned. "Move. Please move."
He did.
Slowly at first, long strokes that let them both savor the sensation. But the urgency built quickly, driven by days of tension and hours of foreplay and the storm still raging outside. Soon Alex was moving faster, harder, Lily meeting him thrust for thrust.
"Yes—" she gasped, her nails raking down his back. "Right there—don't stop?—"
The cabin filled with the sounds of their coupling—skin against skin, gasped names, the rhythmic creak of the bed. Thunder rolled overhead, but neither of them noticed anymore.
Alex could feel his release building, coiling hot at the base of his spine. He reached between them, finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles.
"Come with me," he growled against her ear. "Lily?—"
She shattered with his name on her lips, her inner walls clamping down on him like a vice. Alex followed her over the edge with a groan, spilling himself inside her in hot pulses that seemed to go on forever.
They lay tangled together as the aftershocks rolled through them, both breathing hard, neither willing to move.
Eventually, Alex found the strength to roll to the side, pulling out with a wince that she echoed. He gathered her against his chest, her head tucked under his chin, their legs intertwined.
"So," Lily said after a long moment, her voice hoarse. "That happened."
Despite everything—despite the magnitude of what they'd just done, despite the complications it would inevitably cause—Alex laughed.
"That's one way to put it."
"I'm a wordsmith." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "It's kind of my thing."
They lay in comfortable silence, the storm still drumming against the roof. Alex traced patterns on her back, memorizing the feel of her, storing up sensory details against the emptiness that would come when she eventually left.
Don't think about that, he told himself.Stay here. Stay present.
"Your clothes are soaked," he said eventually. "I've got a t-shirt you can wear."
"How romantic."
"I'm a giver."
He retrieved the shirt—an old Boston University tee, soft from years of washing—and watched Lily pull it over her head. It swallowed her, falling to mid-thigh, and somehow she looked more appealing in his ratty shirt than she had in any of her designer bikinis.
You're in trouble, Carmichael.
He was beginning to accept that.
They crawled back into bed, settling into a position that felt natural despite this being the first time they'd shared it. Lily curled against his side, her arm draped over his stomach, her breath warm against his chest.
"Hey Alex?"
"Mm?"
