He scoops me up, easy and familiar now, and carries me the few steps to the mattress. He lays me down like I am something precious. He follows, covering me with his body but keeping most of his weight on his forearms.
Clothes come off slowly. His shirt. My borrowed flannel. His sweatpants. My underwear. Skin to skin. Warmth to warmth.
He kisses down my throat. Across my collarbone. Lower. He takes one nipple into his mouth, gentle suck, slow swirl of his tongue, until I arch and whisper his name.
“Beck…”
He moves lower still. He kisses the soft curve of my stomach. The sensitive skin inside my thighs. Then he spreads me gently and drags his tongue along my center in one long, reverent stroke.
I gasp. My fingers thread into his hair. My hips lift toward his mouth.
He licks again. Slower. Deeper. He sucks my clit between his lips and flicks with his tongue in steady, patient circles until my thighs tremble and my breath comes in short, desperate pants.
“God, Beck?—”
Two thick fingers slide inside me, curling just right, while his mouth stays on me, relentless and tender all at once.
I come apart quietly, shuddering, crying his name into the dark, pulsing around his fingers and against his tongue.
He kisses his way back up my body. He settles between my thighs. He notches himself at my entrance. “Look at me,” he whispers.
I do.
He pushes in slow, inch by inch, eyes never leaving mine. When he’s buried deep we both still. Just breathing. Just feeling.
Then he starts to move. Slow rolls of his hips. Deep, grinding thrusts that make my toes curl and my breath hitch.
I wrap my legs around him. I pull him closer. Nails drag down his back. “Harder,” I breathe.
He gives it to me, faster, deeper, the headboard tapping softly against the wall.
I cling to him. I whisper broken little pleas against his lips.
He hooks one of my knees over his elbow. He opens me wider. He drives deeper.
“Beck, I’m?—”
“Come,” he growls against my throat. “Let me feel you.”
I do, harder this time, crying out as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
He follows, thrusting deep, burying himself, coming with a low, broken groan that vibrates through both of us as he spills inside me.
We stay locked together afterward. Panting. Trembling. Hearts slowing together.
He rolls us so I drape across his chest. His arms wrap tight around me. His lips brush my hair.
We don’t speak for a long time. We just listen to each other breathe. We listen to the quiet mountain outside.
Finally I lift my head. I trace the line of his jaw. “I want to stay,” I whisper. “Here. With you. Not just until the paperwork’s done. Not just until the grief gets quieter. Forever.”
His arms tighten around me. “Then stay,” he murmurs. “Forever starts right now.”
I smile against his skin, small, bright, certain. “Forever starts right now,” I echo.
The moonlight keeps spilling across the bed. The snow keeps melting outside. And inside, the future feels real.
Ours.
