He moved again, slower this time, burying himself in me inch by inch until he was fully there. A low groan escaped him as he kissed along my jaw and down my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
He began to move, slow at first, finding a rhythm that made my breath catch. Each deep roll of his hips drew a quiet sound from me, my body meeting his like it already knew the pace. His hand slid along my side, tracing up until his palm rested over my breast. His touch was feather-light, exactly how I liked it, fingers brushing over my skin in soft, coaxing circles.
A quiet sound left me, part groan, part sigh. “I love making you feel good,” he whispered against my neck. “You have no idea what you do to me when you fall apart like this.”
He explored me with quiet patience, each slow movement in perfect rhythm with the way we moved. Every soft sound that escaped me pulled another breath from him, another tremor through his body.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, voice rough but tender. “Everything about you.”
Pleasure built fast, sharp and consuming, and when it broke, I clutched at him, his name escaping my lips. He followed with a low, broken groan, both of us trembling through the aftershocks.
He eased down beside me, pulling me close until I was tucked against his chest. His lips brushed over my shoulder, my temple, soft, lingering kisses that said everything words couldn’t.
“That was...You were...” he said softly.
I smiled into his chest, my breath still uneven. “Same.”
He brushed his lips across my hair and held me close.
The wind moved through the tall grass, tugging gently at the edge of the blanket. For a moment, there was nothing but the two of us—quiet, safe, and whole.
He stayed close for a while, both of us still catching our breath. The air was warm, the sunlight low and golden across the field. Soft orange and pale blue still streaked the sky. Everything felt slower, quieter, different in the best way.
When he finally pulled away, it was slow, careful, like he didn’t want to break the stillness that had settled around us.
“Don’t move,” he requested.
He reached for the saddlebag and pulled out a couple of small towels. I watched as he poured a bit of water onto one, the fabric darkening as it soaked in.
My brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”
He looked up, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Helping,” he said quietly.
“Caleb,” I whispered, my voice catching, “you don’t have to...”
“I want to.”
He cleaned me up with a tenderness that made my chest ache, his touch slow and careful, like this, too, mattered. Taking care of me was as natural as breathing for him. I tried to blink back the sting in my eyes, but the tears still came. He noticed, of course he did, and brushed his thumb under my eye before I could look away.
His voice was soft and a little rough. “You have no idea what it does to me, being the one you trust like this.”
I nodded, my throat too tight for words. He just kept moving, gentle as ever.
When he finished, he used the other towel for himself just as quietly, setting them both aside before coming back to me.
He pulled me into his arms again, the warmth of his skin against mine, sunlight still glinting off his shoulders as the sun hung lower in the sky. Everything around us glowed in this moment, caught somewhere between day and dusk, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
