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He hummed in uncertain agreement, forehead resting against hers. ‘When did you get so wise?’

It was a good question. She’d never given herself the same grace she was offering him now, not when it came to her own problems. She tried to convince herself it was different for him: he dropped out of his art course because he was struggling, not because it was in his nature to fail the way it seemed to be in hers.

But then she thought of all the things she battled on a regular basis. The exhausting whir of brain chatter, the paralysing inability to just get up and do things that needed to be done, the constant distractions where she could lose hours without realising it,the way everything she had to say and do felt urgent because otherwise she might forget about them altogether. The intensity of her emotions, and the overwhelming sensory experiences of everyday life. None of those were things she’d chosen. They were symptoms, and nobody had ever made room to just let them be there. She’d fought them every step of the way and still lost.

The only person who had never held them against her was him. In fact, he seemed to like her for all her mess.

When she didn’t reply, he frowned and tapped her forehead. ‘Where have you gone?’

She shook her head. ‘I wish I knew.’

His hands lowered to her hips, sneaking under her jumper so that he could draw circles over skin. She sighed, eyes closing. Surrendering, just like he’d always wanted.

His lips found her jaw, her neck, and she leaned to grant him better access as her other leg wrapped around him. She twisted her fingers through his hair the way she knew he liked, and got the reaction she’d hoped for when he keened softly. It was like they’d never been apart. Her body remembered his after weeks away, and his hers.

‘Take me to bed, Aiden,’ she pleaded.

So he did, his strong arms lifting her off the couch as though she weighed nothing at all. He walked down the hallway without ever tearing his gaze away, each step sending another jolt of anticipation through her. It wasn’t like the other times they’d done this, when they’d fallen into each other without any control. When their bodies had decided for them. This time, it was her deciding. There was no rush,no desperation, only a quiet knowing that left her feeling safer than ever with him.

Like hers, his bedroom floor was covered in clothes and art books, though they’d been pushed aside to corners. He laid her down on his sky-blue duvet, and she was quick to tear off his shirt. Maybe she was slightly desperate, after all, but it was difficult not to be when the light hit his chest, casting shadows across the planes of his soft middle. She’d never had time to appreciate it all before, but she did now, letting her finger drift from his sternum down to his belly button, where a strip of hair pointed to his already strained waistband.

‘It’s unfair, how beautiful you are,’ she admitted.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Beautiful? Is that what I am now?’

A nod. ‘‘Fraid so.’

‘Well, it’s a step up from intolerable, obnoxious arsehole.’ He toyed with her jumper until she fought her way out of it, the two of them laughing when it left her hair mussed on top of her head. He tugged the tie from it, letting it fall freely around her shoulders with something like awe parting his lips. Dusky light kissed his high cheekbones, muddying his hazel eyes, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from him. From the way it felt to be seen by him. Like she was the centre of his universe, the gravity that kept him grounded. She’d never understand it; she’d done nothing to earn it, not really.

And yet he kissed her like she deserved every bit of it, starting with her lips then dipping down to the valley between her breasts. He tugged at the lace of her bra with his teeth, then carried on to peel her jeans down. She lifted her hips to let him,her walls clenching around nothing when his stubble scraped her inner thighs. His kisses followed the line of her stretch marks, some white from puberty and some more recent and pink. She’d never paid much attention to them before, but she propped herself up on her elbows and realised that they might have been beautiful to an artist like him. Added texture, expressive brushstrokes, the same way he often did with his clay.

‘Do you have any idea what you do to me, Juni?’ he asked, hoarse voice vibrating against her skin. ‘I spend every hour of every day wishing I was yours.’

Her breath shook as she guided him back up with a finger under his chin, wondering if he truly meant it. Wondering if she felt the same. Knowing, deep down, she did.

‘You are.’ She unbuttoned his jeans and grazed the low jut of his stomach. ‘You are mine.’

He stepped out of his jeans and then his boxers, completely bare. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip at the sight of his length, hard and ready for her. His hips and thighs were as beautiful as the rest of him, the former as soft as his stomach and darkened by hair.

Unable to wait any longer, she tugged him back onto the bed and straddled his waist again. He unhooked her bra, fingers quicker and clumsier now, and she threw it somewhere behind her. His mouth was on her immediately, tongue lapping at her nipples and breasts spilling over his kneading fingers. It was better than anything they’d done before, skin clashing against skin, all of their past obstacles finally gone. She ground her hips against him, her covered clit finding friction against his cock,and she wondered what would happen if she let go of all the things holding her back. If she fell and let him catch her.

‘There are condoms in my nightstand,’ he rasped.

‘I think we’re past needing them, don’t you?’ After all, he’d filled her once before and she’d taken her contraception this morning, one of the few things she’d managed to uphold a routine with after years of avoiding heavy periods.

He grinned and nipped at the bunched, pink skin around her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her.

‘I feel like I can’t get you close enough,’ he admitted, hands snaking to tug her closer by her arse cheeks. Her core hit his erection again, a taunt, a promise. ‘I can feel every bit of distance, and it fucking hurts, Juniper. I need you closer.’

She felt it, too, her skin screaming whenever he drew back. ‘Then get closer.’

She lifted to remove her underwear, running her hand over the length of his shaft to line him up before finally sinking onto him. She took him with as much restraint as she could muster, trying to feel every inch of him until their bodies were joined completely. His fingers flexed against her shoulder blades, breath hot and heavy on her collarbone. She almost didn’t want to move, didn’t want to put that distance between them again, but her core searched desperately for release.

She started slow, resting her head against his as she sought the place where it felt best, but then he tilted her chin and begged, ‘Look at me. I want to see you. Never got to see you properly the first time.’

‘I’d argue that it was me who couldn’t see the first time.’ And as pleasurable as that blindfold had been, it paled in comparison to this.It was another sensation altogether to lock eyes, to see whispers of pleasure write themselves over his face between the hoarse rattle of his laugh.

Her breaths grew more laboured as she rolled her hips deeper, harder, him swallowing her gasps into his mouth before he kissed her again.