“Hi.”
“You sure?”
“Archer, I swear to God—”
Archer
I push into her, and the world stops.
She’s warm and tight, and the sound she makes—my name,broken in the middle—does something to me I can’t put into words. I hold still, arms shaking, forehead against hers, giving her a moment to adjust. Though staying still right now is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“You okay?” I get out.
“I’m so much better than okay.” Her hips shift, taking me deeper, and I have to close my eyes because if I look at her right now, I’m done. “Move, Arch.”
I move.
Slow at first. I watch her face the way I watch everything—her breath, her hands, the flutter of her lashes when I find the angle that makes her gasp. She wraps her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my lower back, pulling me in. Her nails bite into my shoulders, anddamn.
“You’re killing me,” I breathe, dragging my mouth along her jaw. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Right there,” she breathes.
I stay right there. Steady. I’m a goalie. I know how to find my position and hold it.
She arches up to meet me, and we find a rhythm that’s ours. Her hand searches for mine on the mattress, our fingers lace, and she holds on. I look at her face—flushed, open, looking up at me like I’m the only person in the world—and I think,this is what it’s supposed to feel like.Every moment before this one was a rough draft.
“Arch, I’m close.”
“I know.” I can feel it, the way she’s tightening around me, the catch in her breath. “Let go, honey. I’ve got you.”
She arches, her grip on my hand tightens, and she murmurs my name. I watch every second of it because I never want to forget what Sydney Lane looks like when she comes apart underneath me.
I follow her about thirty seconds later, and it hits me like a wall. I bury my face in her neck, my hips stutter, and I’m shaking apart against her while she holds me—arms around my back, lips at my temple, fingers in my hair. And the thought lands clean and a little brutal:I wasted so much time being afraid of this.
We lie there tangled together, breathing hard. Her hand traces lazy circles on my back, and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, slowing.
I lift my head and look at her. Her hair is messy, her eyes bright, and she’s smiling at me with a smile I want to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life.
“That was worth the wait,” she says.
“Yeah?” I grin, kiss her forehead, roll onto my back, and pull her against my chest. She tucks in, head on my shoulder, hand over my heart, our legs tangled. Outside, the snow keeps falling. The room is quiet and warm.
“Hey, Arch?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think I need the apartment.”
I look down at her. She’s tracing slow circles on my chest, her eyes half-closed.
“No?”
“No.” She tips her face up. “I think I’m already home.”
I tighten my arm around her and press my mouth into her hair. The snow taps the window. Her breathing slows against my chest.
Yeah. She is.
