His forehead rests against mine, his grip tightening on my hips. “…we’re not stopping.”
My pulse thrums in my ears.
“Good,” I whisper, because there’s nothing to hide anymore. Everyone already knows about us, and I’m done pretending when it comes to him.
His laugh is quiet, a little disbelieving, before his mouth finds mine again and the world beyond the pool disappears.
Warm hands glide up my back, pulling me closer until my body presses fully into his, heat meeting heat, breath catching as he lifts me with an ease that pulls a small, startled sound from my lips.
Instinct takes over and I wrap my legs around his waist.
The shift pulls me higher, closer, every point of contact suddenly more intense. My fingers find the damp hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly, and the deep rumble he makes in response sends a shiver racing through me.
Water trails down my skin, cool against the heat building everywhere he touches.
The rough edge of the pool drags against my shoulder blades as he moves us forward, gently pinning me between him and the tile. His hips press into mine, and the friction draws a quiet, breathless gasp from me.
I nip at his lower lip in a playful tug.
He groans into my mouth, rough and unguarded.
When we break apart, he takes a second to look at me. His eyes are darker now, heavy-lidded, like he’s trying to hold onto control and failing.
“Alex…” I breathe his name the way he whispered mine moments ago. I lean in, tracing my mouth along his throat, feeling his pulse jump beneath my lips. His chest rises, brushing against mine and a shudder runs through him when my teeth graze the edge of his ear.
The way his body responds to my touch makes me braver than I’ve been in my entire life. My hand slips between us, searching for him, brushing with my fingertips in gentle strokes. His reaction is an immediate sound of surrender against my hair.
“Can we?” My voice comes out low, unsteady in a way that surprises me. “I’m safe. I’m—”
“I’m safe too,” he says, voice rough but certain.
His gaze holds mine, as short, shallow breaths leave me and we linger there, suspended in the space between wanting and choosing.
“Are you sure?” he asks, unmoving while he waits.
There’s not a single doubt in my mind.
I answer with a look, with the way my hands slide up his arms, with the way I close the distance between us again.
My fingers find the ties at my hips.
The rest happens quickly, neither of us wanting to risk the moment disappearing. Our bathing suits end up tossed in a heap at the side of the pool, then he’s kissing me again.
This time it’s deeper like he’s grounding himself in the moment. Like he’s making a decision he knows he can’t take back.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. He murmurs low against my mouth, “Tell me if anything feels wrong.”
“It won’t.” I shake my head, trembling.
A quiet, almost disbelieving sound leaves him before his mouth finds mine again.
And then there’s no more thinking, only feeling. Only him.
He presses me back against the tile, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat that’s between us. My breath catches as I feel him there, the anticipation alone enough to make my body react.
I roll my hips, chasing him, needing more.
A rough chuckle slips from his mouth as it brushes mine.
