I put my mouth against her collarbone. The freckles I'd noticed on the porch the night of the first kiss were there in the dark. I couldn't see them. I knew where they were anyway. Her hand was in my hair. Her breath caught against my ear.
"You're shaking," she said.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because this is the first time in four years I've done this and I want to memorize exactly how you look right now so I’ll be able to remember it for a very long time."
She went still under my hands.
Then she pulled my face up to hers and kissed me with both of her hands flat against the sides of my jaw, and I felt the moment she understood what I'd just told her, and her hands tightened against my face like she was holding the answer in place.
The way she kissed me wasn’t like anything I’d expected. Not hungry, not rushed, just thorough. Like she was mapping the shape of my mouth with hers, memorizing the weight of my jaw in her palms. Her thumbs brushed the roughness of my beard, and I felt the calluses on her fingertips from gripping her camera all day. Those hands knew how to hold things steady.
I kissed her back the same way.
Her skin was warmer than I’d imagined. Softer where my palms ran down her sides, firmer where my fingers found the dip of her waist. She made a sound when I touched her there, something that came from deep in her chest. I did it again just to hear it. Her nails dug into my shoulders.
The bed was small. We fit anyway.
She rolled us so I was on my back, straddling my hips with hers, and the shift in weight made my breath catch. Her hair fell forward, brushing my chest. I reached up and pushed it back behind her ears, then left my hands there, framing her face. She looked down at me with her lips parted, her eyes dark in the low light from the window.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
She didn’t answer with words. She leaned down and kissed me again, slower this time, her mouth moving against mine like she was savoring something rare. Her hands slid down my chest, tracing the lines of muscle, the old scar near my ribs from a fence post when I was sixteen. She knew exactly where to touch to make me tense underneath her.
I flipped us over before she could decide to take more control than I could handle giving.
She laughed against my mouth. Not a nervous sound but something richer, like she’d been waiting for this. Her legs wrapped around my hips, her heels digging into the backs of my thighs. I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear, the way her body arched up when I pressed against her.
I kissed her throat. The pulse there was fast, steady. I followed it down to the hollow between her collarbones, then lower, my mouth trailing over the swell of her breasts. She made that sound again when I took one nipple between my lips, her fingers tightening in my hair. I spent time there, learning the way her breath hitched when I used my teeth, the way her back arched off the bed when I switched to the other side.
Her skin tasted like salt and something sweet, like she’d been out in the sun all day and then showered with vanilla soap. I could’ve stayed there for hours, just mapping the way her body responded to mine. But she was pulling at my shoulders, her nails scraping down my back, and I knew what she wanted.
I slid a hand between her legs.
She was wet. Hot. Ready. Her thighs trembled when I touched her, her breath coming in sharp little gasps. I found the rhythm she liked. Her hips lifted and her hands gripped my wrists like she was trying to hold me in place. I watched her face as I worked her, the way her eyes squeezed shut, the way her lips parted on a sound she couldn’t quite let out.
“Jace—”
I kissed her before she could finish. Swallowed the sound she made when I added a second finger, the way her body clenched around me. She was close. I could feel it in the way her muscles tensed, the way her breath came faster.
“Not like this,” she gasped against my mouth. “I want you.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I reached for the nightstand, found a condom in the drawer where I assumed she’d left them earlier. She took it from me and tore the wrapper with her teeth. Her hands were steady as she rolled it on, her eyes locked on mine the whole time. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just pure, certain need.
I pushed into her slow. She was tight, hot, perfect. Her nails dug into my shoulders as I filled her, her body stretching around me. I stopped when I was all the way in, giving her time to adjust. She didn’t need it. Her hips lifted, demanding more, and I gave it to her.
We moved together like we’d done this a hundred times before.
Her legs wrapped around me, her heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper. I set a rhythm that made her gasp, her body tightening around me with every thrust. She was close again. I could feel it in the way her muscles clenched, the way her breath came in sharp little pants.
I reached between us, found the spot that made her cry out and sent her back arching off the bed. She came with a broken sound, her body pulsing around me, her nails raking down my back. I followed her over the edge, my release hitting me hard, my hips stuttering as I buried myself in her.
We stayed like that for a long moment, my forehead pressed to hers, our breath mingling in the space between us. Her heart pounded against my chest, our skin slick with sweat.
