"Fuck, Billie."
His voice was rough, strained, like he was holding onto control by a thread. I could feel him trembling, his muscles coiled tight, his grip on my hips almost bruising. But it wasn’t pain. It wasneed. The same need that was coiling inside me, tight and desperate, like I’d shatter if he didn’t move.
He started slow, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, deep and sure. My nails raked down his back, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer,deeper. He buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin, his lips pressing kisses there between words I could barely make out.
"You feel—sogood."
I couldn’t answer. I could onlyfeel. The drag of him inside me, the way his body moved against mine, the way his hands gripped me like he was afraid I’d disappear. Every thrust was measured, every roll of his hips deliberate, like he was memorizing the way I responded, the way my breath hitched, the way my body tightened around him.
His mouth found mine again, his kiss slow and deep, his tongue tangling with mine as his hips kept their rhythm. I could taste myself on him, could feel the way his body tensed every time I moaned into his mouth. It was too much and not enough, the pleasure building inside me like a storm, like something I couldn’t control even if I wanted to.
I broke the kiss, my head falling back against the pillow as a shudder ran through me. "Calder?—"
He groaned, his forehead pressing to mine again, his breath coming faster now, his movements losing some of that careful control. "I know, baby. Iknow."
His hands slid under me, one gripping my shoulder, the other cradling the back of my head, holding me like I was something precious, something he was afraid to break. And then he moveddeeper, hitting a spot inside me that made my vision blur, my fingers clutching at his skin, my legs locking around him.
"Don’t stop," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Please,don’t stop."
He didn’t. He couldn’t. His rhythm faltered for just a second, like he was fighting something, like he was trying to hold back. But then I arched up into him, my body begging for more, and he lost it. His hips snapped forward, his breath coming in rough, ragged bursts, his grip on me tightening like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him afloat.
"Billie—fuck?—"
I could feel it, the way his body tensed, the way his movements became erratic, like he was losing the battle with himself. I was right there with him, my body coiled tight, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps, my nails digging into his skin.
"Come on, baby," he growled, his voice rough against my ear. "Let go.Let go."
And I did.
The orgasm crashed over me, my body clenching around him, my back arching off the bed as a broken cry tore from my throat. He groaned, his hips stuttering, his own release hitting him as he buried himself deep inside me, his body shuddering against mine.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the way his body pressed into mine, the way his heart pounded against my chest. He didn’t pull away. He stayed there, buried inside me, his forehead still pressed to mine, his hands still gripping me like he was afraid to let go.
I turned my head, pressing my lips to his jaw, feeling the stubble rough against my skin. He exhaled shakily, his breath warm against my neck.
"Billie," he murmured, his voice rough, like he was saying my name for the first time.
I didn’t answer.
Because for the first time, Iknew. This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just need, or lust, or something we couldn’t control.
This waslove.
And it terrified me more than anything else ever had.
His arms tightened around me, pulling me flush against his chest until my head rested on his shoulder. His heart still pounded, fast and uneven, like he’d just finished a shift on the ice instead of inside me. His fingers traced lazy circles on my bare back, his other hand tangled in my hair, holding me there like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.
I should’ve moved. Should’ve pulled away, grabbed my clothes, and left before this got any more complicated. Before the weight of what we’d just done settled between us like a puck dropped in the neutral zone.
But I didn’t.
Because for the first time in months, I didn’twantto.
His breath slowed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that lulled me. The room was quiet except for the hum of the old fridge in the corner and the distant sound of traffic outside. His skin was warm under my cheek, his scent—sweat and soap and something uniquelyhim—wrapping around me like a promise.
I let my fingers curl against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. His hand stilled on my back, his grip loosening just enough to let me know he was slipping under too.
“Stay,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep already pulling at him.
