She drew back just slightly and looked up at me, and I saw her working up to something. The small crease between her brows. The breath she took before she said things that cost her.
“Will you stay?” she said. “I don’t want you to go back over there tonight.”
I held her gaze.
“Of course,” I said. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong. I had everything I wanted. She was right here.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers again, both of us breathing hard, the air between us thick and warm. My hand stayed under her sweatshirt, palm flat against her bare back, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her ribs.
“Becca,” I said, voice low and rough. “Tell me what you want. Right now. No guessing. Just say it.”
Her eyes searched mine, soft and unguarded, the last of her careful walls gone. She swallowed, lips still parted.
“I want you,” she whispered. “All of you. Tonight. Here. With me.” Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, trembling just a little. “I want to feel you. I want to know what this is like when it’s us. Just us.”
My chest tightened at the honesty in her voice. I kissed her again, slow and deep, letting her feel the answer before I spoke it. When I pulled back, I kept my hand on her face, thumb stroking her cheek.
“Then we go slow,” I told her. “We stop anytime you need to. You say the word, and we stop. Okay?”
She nodded, eyes shining. “Okay. But I don’t want to stop.”
I kissed her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth with soft, reverent touches that made her sigh. “Bedroom?”
She nodded again, small and sure.
I scooped her up without thinking—arms under her thighs, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. She laughed softly against my neck, surprised and delighted, arms looping around my shoulders as I carried her the short distance down the narrow hall. The trailer felt smaller, warmer, like the whole world had shrunk to the space between our bodies.
I set her down gently on the edge of the bed. She didn’t let go right away—kept her hands on my shoulders, looking up at me like she was memorizing my face. I knelt between her knees, hands resting lightly on her thighs.
“Still good?” I asked.
“Better than good,” she said, voice soft. She reached for the hem of her sweatshirt, paused, then pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. Underneath, she wore a simple black bra, nothing fancy, simple and pretty—and the sight of her skin in the low lamplight made my breath catch.
She watched my face, a small, shy smile curving her lips. “Your turn.”
I stood long enough to shrug off my shirt, let it fall to the floor. Her eyes traced my chest, my stomach, the faint scars from old falls and older fights. She reached out, fingertips brushing the line of my ribs, then flattening her palm over my heart.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered.
“So are you,” I said, covering her hand with mine. “We’re allowed to be nervous. This is everything.”
She tugged me down until I was kneeling again, then leaned in to kiss me—slow, open-mouthed, her hands exploring my shoulders, my back, learning me the way I wanted to learn her. I unhooked her bra with careful fingers and let it slide down her arms. When I pulled back to look, her breath hitched.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, voice rough with awe. I cupped her breasts gently, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they tightened under my touch. She arched into my hands with a soft moan, head tipping back.
I kissed her throat, her collarbone, then lower—slow, open kisses across the soft swell of her breast until I took one nipple into my mouth. She gasped, fingers threading into my hair, holding me there while I licked and sucked gently, learning what made her breath catch, what made her hips shift restlessly.
“Levi…” My name came out like a sigh, like relief.
I moved to the other side, giving it the same slow attention, while my hands slid down to the waistband of her jeans. I looked up, waiting.
“Yes,” she said immediately. “Please.”
I unbuttoned, unzipped, and helped her shimmy out of them along with her underwear. She lay back on the bed, hair fanned across the pillow, skin flushed and glowing in the lamplight. I stood for a second just looking—heart hammering—then kicked off my own jeans and boxers.
Her gaze dropped, darkened. She reached for me.
I caught her hand, kissed the palm. “Condom,” I said. “In my wallet. Give me one second.”
