“If we don’t slow down…” My voice breaks. I swallow hard. “I’m not gonna be able to.”
She cups my jaw as her thumb brushes my lower lip, swollen from her kisses. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
“Fuck, Layla.”
A shiver goes through me, desire and terror clashing.
“You don’t get it,” I breathe out. “Once I have you... I won’t ever fucking let you go.”
Her eyes widen at my sheer honesty.
“Reed, don’t let me go.”
I hold onto the back of the couch because touching her again would break every boundary remaining.
“You leave tomorrow,” I remind her, pain weaving through my words.
She swallows, her hands still tangled in my hair. “But tonight…” Her lips ghost mine again. “…I’m here.”
My restraint manifests differently; not to take, but to hold.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a fierce, bone-deep embrace, my lips pressed against her temple, breathing her in.
She melts into me without resistance, burying her face in my neck. Neither of us moves for a long time.
Her breathing evens out, and her voice vibrates against my skin.
“I don’t want this to be goodbye.”
I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes.
My heart answers before my mouth does.
“Then don’t go.”
She doesn’t answer, her hands lightly fisted in the fabric of my shirt. I smooth my palms over her hips once and gently tap her thigh.
“Come on,” I say, my voice a little rough from everything we just held back.
Her gaze flicks up to meet mine, nerves and hope battling behind her eyes. She nods, the movement small but steady, and I hold her waist as she shifts off my lap.
The warmth she leaves behind is immediate and irritating.
I stand, offering her my hand, and she takes it without hesitation.
We move toward the hallway, still tangled together at the fingers. My bedroom door is just ahead, a simple thing, but suddenly it feels like a line I can’t cross.
I stop just outside it.
“Layla…” I turn to her fully this time, our hands still linked. “If you want me back on the couch, I can slee?—”
She quickly shakes her head, stepping closer, her free hand sliding up my arm in a slow, steady stroke. “No, stay with me.”
I swallow hard and push the door open.
The familiar scent of cedar and laundry detergent greets us, the only things keeping me grounded as the reality of this moment sinks in. I flick on the bedside lamp, warm light softening the room’s edges.
I gesture toward the bed, suddenly feeling shy in my own room.
