We groaned together as I sank onto him, me stretching to accommodate him and him gripping my hips like a lifeline. I worked down an inch or two before pressing up onto my knees, only to sink down another inch. Over and over, slowly, I stretched and worked until I could sit all the way down, until Shane’s eyes were squeezed shut and he was letting out a whole string of curses.
“Goddamn, Ari,” he breathed, shaking his head as I lifted and sat again. “You feel so fucking good. Better than I—”
He couldn’t finish the thought, another groan ripping through him as I planted my hands on his chest and began to work. I rode him slowly, lifting and lowering, savoring the way he stared at my breasts, at how his hands worked them perfectly. I tipped my head back and let myself slip into the euphoria of his touch.
Being connected with him again felt like a piece of my soul coming home, like I’d been wandering around this planet looking for it without even realizing. My heart beat steadier. My anxiety eased in an instant.
I was home.
Hewas home.
When I sat back, he reached even deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made me see stars. I moaned and worked my clit with one hand as I held myself steady against his chest with the other. Soon, I was bouncing, reaching, panting, aching.
Exploding.
My second orgasm was faster, a lightning bolt straight to my chest. It didn’t roll like the first, it zapped, hot and fierce and all-encompassing. I cried out my release, and the way Shane gripped my hips, I knew his was close behind.
When my legs finished quaking and I dipped my head to his, Shane followed my lead, slowing a bit for me to steady out. Then, we were kissing wildly again, and he flipped me onto my back, entering me with a powerful, possessive flex.
“Yes,” I breathed, arching into him, nails digging into his back.
“So fucking good,” he breathed against my neck, and his pace quickened, his arms wrapping around me and crushing me to him as he pummeled in. “I want to live here, Ariana. I want to die here. You were made for me. You and this perfect fucking cunt.”
I moaned, kissing him hard, and he kept that bruising kiss as he grunted out his release. I loved the way he stiffened with it, the way he groaned and gripped and fell completely apart. I was the one who drove him there. It was me he wanted so badly.
I’d never felt more desired in my life.
I didn’t know how long we lay there afterward, limbs tangled, breaths syncing, the room still humming with what we’d done. Shane pressed a kiss into my hair, slow and lingering, like he was trying to memorize the weight of me against his chest.
“Come on,” he murmured eventually. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m not cold,” I protested weakly.
“I know,” he said softly. “But I want to take care of you.”
The bath was already running by the time he carried me in, steam curling around the room. I was still taking in every part of his home, of this place where so much of the man I didn’t know yet lived, where pieces of the boy I knew like my own heart revealed themselves.
He eased us down into the water, my back to his chest, his arms circling me beneath the surface. The heat seeped into my bones, and I sighed, heart so content I could cry.
I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.
For a little while, the world didn’t exist.
He washed me the way someone does when they’re afraid of hurting you — careful, unhurried, reverent. When he pressed a kiss to my temple, my throat tightened.
“I could stay here forever,” I whispered.
“Me too.”
But time is cruel like that. It doesn’t care what we want or when we want it. At the end of the day, we play by its rules, not the other way around.
Eventually the water cooled, and reality crept back in around the edges. Shane wrapped me in a towel, another around himself, and led me back to the bedroom. I saw the pain in his eyes as he helped me dress, felt the way he hated this as much as I did.
His hands lingered at my waist, my shoulders, sliding into my hair we’d been so careful not to get wet in the bath. His jaw was tight as he buttoned my pajama top, like each fastened button was a small act of violence.
“I hate it, too,” I said quietly.
He nodded, taking me into him for a long hug. His words were warm against my hair. “This is temporary. You hear me?” He pulled back to look into my eyes, his desperate and urgent. “You survive for me. For us. Okay? Whatever you have to do.We’re almost there. We just have to solidify the plan, and then it’s over.”
