We don’t speak. We just watch each other, the air heavy. When he finally crosses the room, his movements are slow. He reaches me like a man walking toward something fragile, something sacred.
“Clara.” My name cracks in his throat. “I know you’re not staying. I know in a couple of days you’re leaving, walking into a life where you’ll take another man’s name. If this night is the only one we’ll ever have…” His breath hitches, the words are tearing free. “I want everything you’re willing to give me. I don’t care about the ache I’ll feel when you’re gone. I just want to be close to you. Make you mine for just one night.”
The room tilts around me, my heart pounding in my throat. I can’t hold the truth inside any longer. “I want that too,” I whisper, and the words feel like both confession and surrender.
I sit on the bed, remove my shoes. I meet his gaze and begin to pull the pins from my hair, placing each one on the nightstand. He reaches, stopping my hand. His fingers find the final pin and my hair falls. He smiles as runs his hands through my hair.
“Lie down, Firefly.”
I feel like a thousand live embers as I sink onto the mattress. He takes his boots off and joins me, pulling me against his chest. I hear his heartbeat and feel his chest lower as he exhales.
“Is this okay?”
I nod against him, his fingers lacing through my hair, his lips drop to my forehead. I tip my head up to meet his eyes. His simple smile gives me courage.
“I’m nervous.”
His thumb sweeps across my cheek. “No need to be nervous. When two people love each other, they figure things out.”
I grin, my eyes watching my fingers toying at the buttons of his shirt before they meet his again. “Make me yours, Marcel.”
That sweet, crooked smile spreads on his lips before he kisses me. I gather all of my courage and my hand moves to his cock. He sucks in a breath as I form my hand around his length through the fabric of his pants. His hips rock into my touch and I feel like I’ll never be the same.
“I want your dress gone, Clara. I need to see you.”
I nod and roll to my back as he sits on his heels at the end of the bed. A single hand runs from my ankle, up my dress to the top of my thigh, leaving a wake of fire on my skin. His eyes stay on me, dark and hungry.
I sit up, pulling at the sleeves of my dress until my arms are free and it drops to my waist. Lowering to the mattress again, he carefully tugs the fabric down my legs, leaving me in my stockings and bits of silk.
His eyes grow wide as his hands explore my skin. Each touch leaving me more breathless than the last. When he begins to reach for my garter, he pauses, his hands hovering. “Firefly,” he whispers, his voice trembling, “I don’t know how any of this works.”
His eyes roam over me—drinking in the shimmer of silk, the delicate lace clinging to flushed skin, the curve of stockings held in place by slender garters. There’s awe in his gaze, as though he’s not quite sure he’s allowed to touch.
I reach for his hand, guiding his fingers to the clasp at my thigh. His breath stumbles against my neck as I help him ease it free. A shy smile curves his lips as he moves to the next. This time, his fingers find the release on their own. One by one, each clasp undone, he rolls the stockings down my legs with aching care. His palms glide along my bare skin, from ankle to thigh, a slow worship in the movement. When he looks at me again, his eyes are soft and hazy.
“This is like unwrapping the most beautiful gift a man has ever been given,” he breathes, the words almost lost against the quiet between us.
I feel heat rise under my skin, from the weight of his reverence. He leans over me, bracing himself on one arm, the other tracing small circles along my hip. Then he stills, his forehead resting against mine.
“I need three things from you, Clara,” he whispers, the rough edge of his voice catching on my name. “First, tell me to stop if I get too rough. Second, tell me what feels good—I need your words. Third…” His thumb brushes against the band of my ring. “Take that goddamn ring off. Tonight, you’re mine, not his.”
My breath catches, the room expanding around me. My hand rises slowly, trembling, and I slide the ring from my finger. It lands on the bedside table with a quiet click. When I look back athim, his eyes are focused solely on me, his lips parted as though he can’t quite believe this is real.
“Marcel,” I whisper, my voice shaking but sure, “I’m yours.”
The lamplight flickers once, catching on the bare curve of his shoulder as Marcel stands and strips his shirt off. He folds it carefully and sets it on the chair in the corner, as though he’s afraid of breaking the moment with carelessness. My breath stumbles when he pushes his pants down. He stands before me, flushed, hard, and trembling in a way that makes him seem both powerful and heartbreakingly vulnerable.
I’ve never seen a man undressed. My cheeks burn, but I can’t look away. His body is all lean muscles and sun-browned skin, carved by work, not vanity. I realize I’m staring and force myself to whisper, “Have you…done this before?”
His eyes flick to mine, then down. His head shakes quickly, the red rising higher in his cheeks. “No.”
His features soften, and he kneels on the bed. His rough hands cup my cheeks, thumbs brushing away the nervous tears I didn’t realize had gathered in my eyes. His hair falls loose over his forehead, his chest rising in sharp, uneven breaths, his gaze locked on mine like I’m both a miracle and temptation.
When he lowers his body over mine, the mattress dips and I feel his weight, the heat of him surrounding me, pressing me into the bed in a way that feels both protective and consuming. My pulse pounds, racing into every limb. Then he shifts—just slightly—and I feel him against me. Hard. Heavy. Perfectly placed at the center of my body.
The shock of it steals my breath. I’ve imagined it all, but never like this—never with the bone-deep reality of him trembling as much as I am, his hips pausing as though he’s afraid to push too far, too fast. His forehead rests against mine, his lips parting, and I realize he’s holding back for me, waiting for me to give permission.
My thighs fall open, instinctive, my body begging for him to be closer before my voice can catch up. His cock nudges against me, a teasing slide that sends sparks rippling low in my belly.
