Foster’s mouth brushes the back of my neck, the exact place he knows I love. He moans, and I tilt my head to the side, giving him more skin to explore so he knows I’m in. His exhale is warm against my skin, and his arm tightens around my waist as he slides even closer. I didn’t think there was more space to fill between us, but he found it.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” His voice is low and sleepy.
I shake my head. “Don’t stop.”
All it takes is my permission.
His mouth finds my neck again, and he kisses me slower this time. He kisses the same spot twice as his fingers run up and down my side, purposely teasing me.
It’s the gentlest kind of ruin.
I press back into him before I can overthink it, and when my ass hits his dick, a guttural groan escapes him. Getting him to make noises that tell me how much he enjoys being with me is so addictive.
His lips graze my ear. “You feel so warm… so nice. I like waking up with you.”
A sharp ache pierces my heart, and I almost laugh at how unfair this situation is. How much I want to change the game on him and hope he’s on board.
Because this… this isn’t lust or co-parents getting closer and becoming friends. We’ve fallen in love. And it was so easy to do that I’m still shocked. I tried to deny it as long as I could, but I’ve fallen in love with Foster Davis, and I’m pretty sure he’s fallen in love with me.
It was the quiet kind of falling, so it sneaked up on me. One day he was a hot guy to have sex with, then he was my friend, and now I want him to be so much more.
I turn in his arms carefully, shifting until I’m facing him. In the dim light, his eyes still find mine.
His hand cups my cheek, thumb sliding once along my jaw as if he’s committing it to memory. “I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
It’s only a week. We’ve gone through longer stints during our time together. This shouldn’t be a big thing.
His forehead rests against mine for a beat, and it’s so tender that my throat burns with my unsaid confession. Foster lowers his head, and his lips meet mine.
It’s slow. No frenzy or panic. As though he’s savoring me and putting all his emotions into our kiss. My hands rest on his shoulders, then his back, pulling him closer, desperate to hold on to this moment in case I never get it again.
He shifts over me, the mattress dipping, the blanket tangling around our legs. He hovers over me, careful to keep his weight off my belly and pausing to look over my face, staring into my eyes as if asking permission.
I nod, unable to find my voice but wanting him so much.
He slowly undresses us both, then kisses me again and again, each one less hurried than the last, as if he doesn’t have to leave to meet the team soon.
His hand slides into mine, threading our fingers together, and it pulls me out of my head and back into my body, back into him.
I want this.
I want him.
The only sounds in the room are our breathing, the soft shift of the sheets, the small noises from each of us.
Foster’s mouth leaves mine only long enough for him to whisper, “God, Callie.” He slides into me, slow and sure.
My heart stutters because this feels different. This is new. The slower pace. The unbroken eye contact. The trust between us.
“Foster…” I manage, my voice barely working.
His eyes hold mine, clear and honest. “You are… amazing. You’re everything.”
The fear, the loneliness, the part of me that always expects to be the only one who wants more breaks at his words, and my chest opens up to expose my heart, inviting him in.
“You are…”
