His hands find my hips.
My shirt joins his on the ground.
He kisses down my neck, my collarbone, teeth grazing skin like a promise.
I gasp when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my soaked shorts. He finds me wet for him already—more than therain, slick and ready and aching. His breath stutters against my jaw.
“Fuck, Leah…”
He doesn’t make me wait.
He never does.
His fingers slide inside me, curling just right, and I arch into him with a moan, nails digging into his shoulders. The tree bark behind me scrapes rough but I don’t care. Not when he’sinsideme like this, coaxing every whimper from my throat with slow, patient precision.
I come apart on his hand with a gasp, shaking under the weight of it, and he doesn’t stop—just holds me through it, whispering things in Vakutan I don’t fully understand but feel down to my bones.
When I catch my breath, I drag his face back up to mine and kiss him hard.
“Now,” I murmur against his mouth. “I need you now.”
He doesn’t need telling twice.
His pants are already open, his cock thick and flushed and pressed hot against my belly.
He rolls a condom down with the kind of practiced ease that makes my stomach flutter.
Then he’s inside me, one slow push at a time, filling me until I can’t think, can’tbreathe,can only feel. I cry out, head tipping back, and he buries his face in my neck.
“God, Leah,” he groans. “You’re everything.”
We move like the rain decides the tempo.
Steady. Deep. Unrelenting.
He fucks me like he’s pouring all the years we lost back into me, one stroke at a time. No rush. No cruelty. Justus.Together. Real.
My fingers claw at his back, his name ripped from my throat again and again.
And when I come this time, it’s not desperation.
It’s celebration.
Kalev follows me over the edge with a curse and a groan and my name like a prayer.
He doesn’t let go.
Not for a long time.
We sink to the wet sand, tangled and panting and so full of each other it hurts.
He pulls me onto his chest and wraps his arms around me like he’ll never let go again.
“I love you,” he whispers into my soaked hair.
“I know,” I whisper back. “Me too.”
The rain eases eventually.
But we don’t move.
There’s nothing left to chase.
Only everything left to keep.
