“You don’t have to pretend. The sofa’s a disaster and the air conditioning sounds like it’s experiencing a painful death.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Feels more like home than anywhere I’ve lived in years.”
She went quiet, eyes shining. “Just wait a few months when we’re settled in, huh?”
We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, the gravity between us suddenly too strong to ignore. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her cheek against my chest. I hugged her back, feeling her heartbeat match mine.
“Remember when I said this place wasn’t real life?” I murmured into her hair. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is the only thing that’s ever felt real.”
She squeezed tighter. “It always has been for me. I’m just glad you see it too.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her hands finding the line of my jaw, the heat of her palms seeping through my skin. I let myself sink into it, the slow burn of her mouth as she kissed me, the thrum of desire starting low and spreading outward until it was the only thing I could feel.
When she finally broke the kiss, she was breathless. “So, you’ve seen the lovely kitchen and living room. Want a tour of the bedroom?”
My voice was a low rasp. “Is that where the real magic happens?”
“Only one way to find out,” she murmured, taking my hand and leading me down the short hallway.
We didn’t let go of each other, stumbling into the room in a jumble of limbs and mouths. The bedroom was as simple and hopeful as the rest of the apartment—a queen bed with a white comforter, a stack of books on the floor, and moonlight spilling through the open window.
The air was thick with unspoken promises. This time was different. Not the frantic collision of two people at the end of a wedding. This was a beginning.
I reached for the hem of her shirt, my movements slow and deliberate. She watched me as I drew the fabric up and over her head, letting it fall to the floor. I undressed her with reverence, unhooking her bra, unbuttoning her shorts, my fingers tracing the lines of her body as if I were memorizing a map.
When she was bare and standing in a pool of moonlight, I studied her for a moment, my chest tight with an emotion too big to name. She didn’t try to cover herself. She held my gaze, offering a vulnerability I was desperate to protect.
She reached for the buttons on my shirt, her hands trembling slightly as she worked them free. We remained silent, every touch a question and an answer, until there was nothing between us but the cool night air and the heavy weight of everything we’d almost lost.
I lifted her into my arms and carried her the last few feet to the bed, letting her fall back onto the soft comforter. As she moved beneath the covers, I followed her down, settling between her legs, her body parting for me in a silent, perfect invitation.
Her skin was electric. I could feel her tense and relax, her breath catching each time my hand moved. I palmed the curve of her ass, pulled her tight against me, and she arched in response, her mouth finding my neck.
I took my time. I kissed her jaw, the hollow behind herear, the delicate ridge of her collarbone. I slid my hand between her thighs, feeling the damp heat.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed.
I circled my fingers, slow at first, watching her face for every twitch and shiver. She closed her eyes, biting her lip, her thighs trembling as I worked her higher. I added a finger, and her whole body jerked in response.
“Dean—” she gasped.
I didn’t let up. I kissed her again, deep and claiming.
“Let go for me,” I whispered against her lips.
She did. She climaxed with a shudder, back arched, nails digging into my shoulders. I watched her ride it out, her face slack with pleasure. I stroked her through the aftershocks, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
When she could speak again, she gave me a cocky smile. “You were always good at showing off.” She reached for me, bracing my hips with both hands. “Your turn.”
I shook my head. “No.”
She gave me a look—half challenge, half invitation. “You’re going to make me beg?”
“There’s an idea,” I said with a grin. “Put that one in the memory file.”
Instead, I grabbed my wallet out of my shorts and rolled on the condom. As I settled above her, she surprised me by rolling me onto my back and climbing astride me, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. She took my shaft in her hand, stroking it slowly, her eyes locked on mine. When she lined herself up and sank down, it was torture—hot, tight, perfect.
I groaned,gripping her hips, trying to hold on as she started to ride me. She moved slowly at first, grindingdown, her eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she tested the rhythm. I let her take the lead, my hands roaming from the curve of her waist to the smooth skin of her back, every part of me content to just follow.
