Tilly stepped in behind her, quiet, their presence filling the space without crowding it. Savannah felt their hand rest lightly at the small of her back — an invitation, not a pull.
“Come here,” they said softly.
Her breath caught.
She turned toward them.
Tilly’s eyes swept over her, slow and reverent, their hand lifting toward her cheek but not touching yet — not until she leaned in, giving permission.
Their fingertips brushed her jaw.
Just that.
But her whole body lit up.
“Savannah…” Their voice was almost a sigh. “You’re beautiful.”
She didn’t know what to do with that.
So she kissed them — or maybe they kissed each other, meeting halfway with a heat that made her whole body tighten.
This kiss was different.
Deeper.
Warmer.
Less careful and more wanting.
Her hand slipped under their shirt again — higher this time — and Tilly let out a sound that made her knees buckle.
They caught her by the waist, gentle but sure.
“Bed?” they murmured against her lips.
Savannah nodded, breathless.
Thirty Nine
Tilly felt something in their chest stutter — not lust, not relief, but a stunned, aching kind of wonder.
Savannah wanted this.
She wanted them.
They kept one hand at her waist, steadying her as her knees wobbled again, guiding her the last few steps toward the bed. They weren’t sure their own legs were steady, but that didn’t matter.
All that mattered was not rushing her.
Not scaring her.
Not breaking whatever fragile, beautiful thing was happening.
They whispered, soft as a breath, “Lie back for me?”
Not a command.
A question wrapped in awe.
