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Then we move.

He pulls back slowly and pushes in again, setting a rhythm that’s deep, deliberate, and devastating in the best way. His hands slide under my thighs, pulling me closer, angling deeper, and I cry out, clinging to him like I might fly apart.

Every thrust sends sparks through me, friction building where we’re joined, heat curling tighter with every stroke. He’s everywhere, his mouth on my neck, his breath in my ear, and his body pressed to mine like he can’t stand an inch of space between us.

I fall apart the second his thumb brushes over the spot he knows makes me shatter.

My back arches. My legs lock around him. Pleasure crashes over me so hard I forget how to breathe. I call out his name as I come, gripping his shoulders like he’s the only thing anchoring me to the world.

But he’s not done.

He groans, low and rough, and his pace falters. His rhythm turns wild and I feel him lose it right there inside me, his release hitting hard, his mouth crushed to mine as he follows me over the edge.

We collapse into each other, breathless, tangled, wrecked.

And still, he doesn’t let go.

He pulls me to his chest, and I fit there like I belong.

Silence stretches between us. Soft. Safe.

“I’ve never felt more seen,” I whisper.

He kisses my temple. “That’s ‘cause you finally let someone see you.”

And I smile, knowing I wouldn’t change a single second.

***

I wake to the smell of bacon.

Sunlight pours across the bed, and I blink slowly, stretching under soft sheets that definitely don’t belong to me.

Nate’s shirt is wrapped around me buttoned halfway, sleeves rolled up and swallowing my hands. It smells like him. Clean laundry and spice, and something darker. Something that lingers on my skin.

I sit up and hear soft clinks from the kitchen.

When I pad out barefoot, he’s at the stove, barefoot too, shirtless, with shorts slung low on his hips. A pan sizzles as he flips eggs. There’s a bowl of fruit already on the counter, two mugs of coffee, and a carton of orange juice.

“You went out for groceries?” I ask, voice raspy from sleep.

He glances over his shoulder with a smirk. “Hope last night didn’t ruin you for future sleepovers.”

I cross my arms, still drowning in his shirt. “I might demand a cabin clause in our relationship contract.”

He laughs. “Add it. I’ll sign anything that keeps you in my bed.”

We eat on the deck. The lake sparkles like it’s in on the secret. Trees sway. Birds chirp. It’s too perfect. And somehow real.

Nate watches me from across the table, one hand cradling his coffee, the other stretched casually behind his chair like he owns the whole world, and me with it.

After breakfast, I change into a black bikini I packed mostly as a joke. But now I want to see what it does to him.

I step out onto the deck. Nate turns.

His jaw slackens. “You trying to kill me before lunch?”

I shrug. “It’s not against the rules.”