Savannah’s breath caught, but she nodded — a small, trembling motion — and eased onto the edge of the bed as if her knees had finally stopped pretending they could hold her.
Tilly’s heart kicked hard.
Not at the sight of her lying there — though that alone nearly undid them — but at the trust in the movement. The way she settled back slowly, palms sliding over the blanket, chest rising too fast, eyes wide with fear and want tangled together.
She wasn’t seducing them.
She wasn’t posing.
She was shaking.
She wanted them, and she was letting them see it.
Tilly didn’t know how to breathe.
They moved carefully — so carefully — crawling onto the bed beside her, one knee sinking into the mattress, their hand braced near her shoulder to keep their weight off her. Savannah looked up at them like she didn’t know what she was allowed to do, and God, it nearly tore Tilly open.
“Hey,” they murmured, brushing a thumb along her cheek. “Look at me.”
She did. Immediately.
Like the request pulled her.
Tilly lowered themselves until they were half beside her, half over her — close enough to feel her shaky breaths, close enough for their warmth to meet in the space between them. They held their weight through their arms so they wouldn’t press down, but the heat radiating between their bodies was already overwhelming.
Savannah’s fingers curled in the blanket, knuckles white. Her breath stuttered when Tilly’s thigh brushed hers.
She was shaking.
Not fear shaking.
Want shaking.
Tilly felt it ripple through the mattress — the tremor in her legs, the tight pull of her stomach, the tiny arch of her hips reacting to proximity alone.
“Sav…” Their voice cracked, rougher than they meant. “You’re shaking.”
She let out a breathless sound — almost a laugh, almost a whimper. “I know.”
Tilly’s chest tightened.
They dipped lower, lips hovering just above hers. They wanted to kiss her again — God, they wanted to — but they needed her grounded, steady, sure.
“You still want this?” they whispered, breath brushing her mouth.
Savannah’s eyes fluttered shut, then opened again, filled with something desperate and certain.
“I want you,” she whispered.
The words hit Tilly so hard they had to brace themselves, one hand sliding gently to her hip, thumb tracing slow lines over the fabric.
Savannah jolted at the touch — a full-body shiver that traveled from her ribs to her thighs. Tilly felt every tremor.
Her thighs pressed together.
Her breath caught.
Her hips lifted just barely, instinct before intention.
