The microwave chimes, and as I stride into the kitchen, I pull out my phone, typing a message to Willow.
Can you send me that list of your favorite romance books?
I bite my lip, thumb hovering over the send button, before I backspace the entire message. I navigate to my contact list and pull up Allie’s number instead.
Can you send me a list of Willow’s favorite books?
Romances, specifically.
I lean over the counter, digging into dinner when light flashes outside the window in front of me just a second before a rumble of thunder rattles the walls, and the lights flicker.
I fucking hate storms like this.
Unease washes through me, reminders of a turbulent past life, where every second inside my house was full of fury like this.
I finish eating quickly, putting my dishes in the sink before heading back into the bedroom. I flip on the television and open the blinds beside the bed. Though the sun wouldn’t be completely set yet, it’s nearly dark outside due to the severity of the storm, and the rain pounding against the glass makes it hard to see across the yard, but I can tell Willow’s bedroom light isn’t on.
From our texts earlier, I gathered she was having dinner with her parents tonight and then would be working on some grading for Penelope’s class she’s assisting. She must still be eating, but I shoot her a message anyway.
Truth: I’m not a fan of the dark, but I fucking hate a thunderstorm.
Leave the light on for me tonight?
I peek out the window again, hoping to see her lamp flicker on, but the room remains shadowed. I sigh, checking the response I received from Allie a few minutes ago. Sure enough, she provided a list of book titles and authors with no further explanation requested. I pull a notepad and a pen from the bedside table and scribble them down before shoving the paper back inside the drawer.
I check the window again, but her light is still off, and that unease inside me deepens.
I settle into bed, and when thunder rumbles louder, I increase the volume on the television, knowing I’m unlikely to find much sleep tonight.
It’s nearly impossible to hear over the howling of the storm, but the knock on the front door is unmistakable. I scramble out of bed and rush to the living room, throwing the door open to find Willow standing in front of it. Her hair is damp, and she’s hugging her arms to her chest. Eyes bright, even in the deepening darkness, she’s so beautiful that all my breath gets caught inside my lungs.
“The light isn’t enough tonight,” she whispers. “I miss you too much.”
I have a tendency to overthink every move I make, and the few times in my life that I’ve run on pure instinct have backfired on me in the worst possible ways. I’m extremely aware of the odds that I’ll fuck this up, but I don’t give my mind the chance to question my impulse when my arm shoots out, wrapping around Willow’s waist and pulling her past the threshold of my doorway.
She inhales sharply, and the world warps as time pauses—long enough for me to watch her lips part, and her gaze dart from my eyes to my mouth before she tilts her chin upward. I skim my arm up her side and over her shoulder, taking her face betweenboth of my hands. She blinks at me, long lashes fluttering with captivating temptation as she nods, and those immersive blue eyes fall closed.
I drop my mouth to hers, capturing her lips. The touch sends shockwaves rattling my bones as heat rushes through my veins when she sighs, melting into me. Her nails dig into my forearms, and I’m hyperaware of the warmth at each place our skin brushes.
I’m kissing Willow.Willow is kissing me.
It’s that familiar sensation—breaking the surface, inhaling salt air, light and bright and bursts of color. The sun peeking through clouds. It’s all amplified tenfold when she gasps against my lips, offering me the gift of her breath.
After a lifetime of being numb, she tears me open, flooding me with feeling—filling every void inside me with her light.
I move slowly, a languid feathering of my lips over hers, but Willow is hungrier. Moaning into my mouth, her tongue slips over my teeth, and I groan when I open to allow her in. With long, sultry strokes, we explore each other fiercely. A mess of tangled tongues and muffled whimpers.
I spin her, slamming the door shut with my foot. Never breaking the kiss, I scoop under her thighs and haul her around my waist, walking her back into the bedroom. She locks her arms around my neck, devouring me with teeth and tongue as I gently set her on the bed. Willow takes me with her as she falls back on the mattress, moaning when my weight envelops her.
She moves her mouth from mine, dragging her lips over my jaw and down my throat as she bucks her hips against me. My cock is fucking raging, and I can’t help but grind down on her. She cries out at the friction, and it spurs me on further. It takes everything in me to lift my head and gulp for air—because I’d be all too happy to drown inside her instead.
“Willow,” I rasp, pinning a hand against her stomach to still her movement. “Baby, I...”
“I’m sorry.” She unlocks her hold around my neck, sliding her palms down my chest as I sit back on my heels, towering over her. She’s an angel beneath me, gold hair splayed across my pillows, face flushed from my touch, lips swollen from my kiss.
Mine, some internal, animalistic, baser form of myself snaps.
“Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry.” I shake my head, panting. “I just... I need to go slow. I’m... I don’t have a lot of experience,” I admit.
