I did too, not because I had decided to, but because she moved, and the part of me that had been following her since we were kids apparently hadn’t stopped.
We were close. The lamp threw warm light across her cheekbones, caught in the loose strands of hair around her face. I could see the faint flutter of her pulse at her throat. I could feel the warmth of her from inches away.
I lifted my hand slowly and tucked that loose strand of hair back from her face. My fingers grazed her cheek—just barely, just the lightest contact—and I felt her breath catch at it. Such a small thing. Such an enormous thing.
I let my fingers linger there, tracing the line of her cheekbone with my thumb, slow and deliberate, like I had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it. Her eyes went soft at the edges. Her lips parted slightly.
I wanted to memorize this. This exact moment, before anything changed—her looking at me like she was finally done pretending she didn’t want this, the warm light catching in her eyes, the river moving quiet and steady beyond the trees.
“I’m not afraid of the parts of you that you think are too much,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a breath. “I’m just so glad you’re finally letting me in.”
She stopped trying to find words.
The space between us vanished. She closed the distance and kissed me like she’d been waiting years to finally believe it was safe to fall.
Chapter 23
Levi
It started soft—lips brushing, tentative, like we were both testing the air between us—but the second her mouth opened under mine, everything caught fire.
Her lips were warm, plush, sweet. I groaned low in my throat the moment her tongue touched mine, and the sound seemed to unravel her. Her hands slid up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt with sudden need, pulling me closer until our bodies pressed tightly together. I felt every soft curve of her against me—the press of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the way she arched instinctively into the contact.
I angled my head, deepening the kiss, taking her mouth with slow, hungry strokes of my tongue that made her whimper softly into me. My hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, cradling her skull as I tilted her face exactly where I wanted it. She rose on her toes to meet me, pressing tighter against my chest, and I felt the hard peaks of her nipples drag against me through her sweatshirt with every shallow breath she took.
My other hand found her waist, then slid lower, cupping the curve of her hip through her jeans, fingers splaying wide to pull her flush against me. She gasped into my mouth at the contact,and I swallowed the sound, kissing her harder, tongues sliding wet and deep and unapologetic.
She tasted like everything I’d denied myself for years, and I couldn’t get enough. I sucked gently on her bottom lip, then bit down just enough to make her moan, the vibration traveling straight through me. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, then slid up into my hair, tugging lightly, urging me closer, deeper. I obliged, devouring her mouth like I’d been starving for it, one hand slipping under the hem of her sweatshirt to find bare skin—warm, smooth, trembling slightly under my palm as I stroked up the elegant line of her spine.
When we finally broke apart, gasping, her forehead pressed to mine, her lips were swollen, dark, and glistening, her pupils blown wide. She looked wrecked in the best way—cheeks flushed, breath ragged, eyes locked on my mouth like she was already thinking about doing it again.
I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, slow and reverent, feeling her shiver at the touch.
“Hi,” I said, voice rough as gravel.
She laughed softly. “Hi.”
I kissed her again, slower this time but no less hungry—long, languid pulls that made her melt against me. My hand stayed under her sweatshirt, palm flat against the small of her back, fingers splayed wide, holding her exactly where I wanted her. She arched into the touch with a soft moan, pressing her breasts harder against my chest, and I felt her smile against my mouth.
I kissed along her jaw, down the sensitive line of her throat, tasting the faint salt of her skin, and feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse under my lips. She tilted her head back, offering more, and I took it—open-mouthed kisses, gentle scrapes of teeth, slow licks that made her fingers tighten in my hair and her breath hitch in sharp, needy little sounds.
“Levi,” she breathed, my name sounding like a plea and a promise all at once.
I lifted my head just enough to look at her—hair thoroughly mussed, lips bruised from kissing, eyes dark and heavy-lidded with want. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and she was looking at me like I was the only thing she wanted in the world.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said, low and rough, the words torn out of me.
Her breath hitched.
Her hands slid to cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones, holding me like I was something precious. She studied me for a long moment and then pulled me back down.
This kiss was slower, deeper, molten. My tongue stroked hers in lazy, thorough glides while my hand slid higher under her sweatshirt, thumb brushing the soft underside of her breast. She arched into it with a soft moan, pressing herself harder against me, and I felt the heat of her through our clothes, the way her body trembled with every slow, deliberate press.
I kissed the corner of her mouth. Her cheek. The soft spot below her ear. She shivered, tilting her head to give me better access, and I sucked gently at the skin there, feeling her pulse race under my tongue.
She turned her face toward mine and kissed me once more, a beginning disguised as surrender, and I held her there in the warm middle of her small trailer with the river moving steadily outside and the Christmas lights blinking through the window.
The quiet settled around us.
