I half expect him to brush it off or try to reassure me. Instead, he just nods. “I get that,” he says softly. “But you know what? I think everyone feels that way sometimes. It’s part of being human.”
I smile against his skin, feeling a surge of affection so strong it almost takes my breath away. “When did you get so wise?”
“Must be all that time I spend with you,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I can’t help but think about how far we’ve come. From friends to... this. Whatever this is.
“Hey, Gale?” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad it’s you.”
His arm tightens around me, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, “Me too, Harriet. Me too. So... what happens now?”
And there it is. The million-dollar question. I can hear the vulnerability in his voice, see it in the way his eyes search mine, like he’s trying to read the future in my irises.
I take a deep breath, buying myself a moment to think. Because the truth is, I don’t know. I’m as new to this whole “earth-shattering, life-altering connection” thing as he is. But as I look at him, at this man who’s managed to turn my world upside down in the best possible way, I realize something.
“Now,” I say slowly, my fingers resuming their exploration of his chest, “we wing it. Together. We take it one day at a time, figure things out as we go.”
I see the relief wash over Gale’s face, like I’ve just handed him the key to some locked door he’s been staring at for ages. “Yeah?” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I can handle that.”
“Good,” I reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Because that was the correct answer.”
He shivers beneath me, and as I deepen the kiss, I can feel him stirring back to life. Ready for another round.
This kiss is different from our earlier ones. It’s slower and more exploratory. I take my time, savoring the taste of him, the softwarmth of his mouth. His hands roam my back, mapping my contours, and I revel in his touch, allowing this worship.
I shift against him, my body finding his with instinctive need. The friction between us sparks something primal, something honest that races through me. With each kiss and touch, my doubts dissolve—not just about this moment, but about myself. The walls I’ve built fall away until there’s nothing between us but truth.
For the first time, I catch a glimpse of myself through his eyes. Gale doesn’t complete me—he shows me I already am complete, just waiting to spread my wings and soar.
“God, the things you do to me. I don’t know how to describe it,” he breathes.
“So don’t.” I roll my hips against him in a way that makes his breath catch. “We can say everything we need without making a sound.”
“Oh no, doc,” he growls, biting my lip. “There will be fucking sounds.”
As our syllables fail and sentences crumble, we let our mouths speak a language all their own. Our kisses are the only dictionary we need to decipher these wild, beating hearts.
I explore him like a map, each lick a careful step, each nibble a clue deciphered. His skin is my personal atlas. When my lips discover that sweet spot beneath his ear, I anchor there, savoring. His rough groans and ragged gasps are sounds I wish I could bottle up and keep forever. I’m drunk on the power of it, this ability to unravel him with just the brush of my mouth.
Before, we had come together with frantic passion and clawing urgency. Now, there’s tenderness. When I reach the tattoo on his ribs—the one that proclaims him “unconquered”—I pause, tracing the letters with my tongue.
“Unconquered, huh?” I murmur, my breath hot against his skin. “I disagree.”
Before Gale can formulate a response, I resume my downward path, a swirl over his navel, a rough bite on the hard edge of his V-line. As I take him in my mouth, his fingers weave in my hair, his body taut with the effort of holding still.
“Fuck,” he gasps, and I hear the sheets rustle as he digs his feet in. The taste of him, the weight of his thick shaft sliding on my greedy tongue, sends a fresh rush of desire through me. When I can’t take him any deeper, when he’s fully penetrated my soul, that’s when I look up and meet his gaze.
His eyes are like pools of midnight, deep and fathomless. But I’m not afraid of drowning anymore. Instead, I want to dive in, to explore every hidden depth and secret current.
I make a silent promise. To myself, to Gale, to this fragile, beautiful thing we’re creating. I promise to be brave. To try to stay even when it’s scary.
I trace my fingers over his collarbone, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse. Usually by now I’d be wondering about pulling back, softening my edges. Playing nice. Making myself smaller, safer, less... demanding. But Gale arches into my touch like he’s starving for it, like he wants every sharp edge, every dark command.
“Stay,” he whispers into my hair.
