Not fear.
The opposite.
I crossed the room and kissed her.
This time there were no interruptions.
Her hands slid beneath my dress and over my back. Mine found the clasp of her bra.
I paused.
“Okay?”
“Very.”
The bra fell to the floor.
My dress followed it.
Ellie’s gaze moved over me slowly.
I knew how to be looked at.
I knew how to stand beneath lights while stylists adjusted fabric and photographers discussed angles. I knew how to let strangers evaluate my body without appearing to notice.
But Ellie watched every small reaction, waiting for me to move closer before she did.
I moved closer.
Her hands were warm and unhurried. She kissed my shoulder, my collarbone, the place above my heart where my pulse had become impossible to hide.
I let myself stop thinking.
Underwater, I breathed.
With Ellie, I could simply feel.
We fell onto the bed with less elegance than either of us would later admit.
My knee hit the mattress.
Ellie’s elbow collided with a pillow.
The headboard tapped the wall once.
We both froze.
“Structural integrity?” she whispered.
“Barely legal.”
“That seems to be your preferred standard.”
I laughed against her mouth.
Then she kissed the laughter away.
The humor stayed with us, threaded through the heat.
