Page 46 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

She scoots back on the bed toward the pillows.

Her hand fumbling for a wooden slat, her other one tangled in my hair as I climb onto the mattress, following with my lips sealed against her folds.

I work her slowly, steadily, until she’s panting my name like it’s a benediction and rocking her hips against my mouth.

“Dean,” she gasps. “Please. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

She breaks on a cry, thighs trembling on either side of my head, breath hitched, back arched toward heaven. I don’t stop until she pushes me away, spent and shaking. My cock a painful reminder that he wants the same attention.

I kiss the inside of her thigh, then crawl up her body.

“You okay?” I whisper against her lips, letting her taste herself. I nearly growl when Lila moans at the nibble.

She nods, eyes still hazy as she accepts my kiss. “More than okay.”

“How do you want me, sweetheart? I’d love to feel you, all of you, but only if you’re okay with that.

I’m clean and get tested regularly. Whatever you want,” I say through clenched teeth, barely holding myself together.

I can’t help but reach between my legs and stroke my dick.

Lila knocks my hand away and replaces it with her own.

Fuck, I’m going to come before I get to slip inside her pussy.

“I’m clean. After everything with my ex, I… I needed to be sure. And I’m on the pill… I want to feel you too, Dean. Please.”

I brace myself above her, her slim hand guiding me toward her slit, our bodies aligned. “I want you to keep holding the headboard.”

She blinks up at me. “Why?”

“Because I want you to feel everything,” I say, my voice low and tight. “And I want to see you lose control.”

The flush in her cheeks deepens, but she doesn’t argue. She reaches up and grabs the wood. And I sink into her in one slow, deep thrust. She cries out, her legs wrapping around me, pulling me deeper.

I have to stop myself from moving too fast. I want to savor this. The slide of her body against mine. The way she holds that headboard like it’s the only thing anchoring her in a sea of yearning. The way she looks at me like she’s finally letting go.

I thrust again. And again. Inch by agonizing inch. Slow and deep and firm until I’m seated fully inside her tight pussy. And it’s fucking perfection.

I try to restrain myself, make it good and romantic for her, but my cock has a mind of its own, and my thrusts grow wilder, rowdier.

Her breath stutters. Her mouth opens. She tries to speak, maybe a curse, maybe a plea, but I swallow the sound with my mouth. Our tongues dance in a tango that mimics our bodies.

We build like the summer storms. Rumbling. Pressurized. Frightening in its intensity. Her muscles tighten around me. Her thighs squeeze. Her chest pushes upward. Her voice, God, her voice breaks into little gasps.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes. “Oh my…”

“Never,” I whisper. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

Pulling out, I flip her around, jerking her hips in the air so I can get deeper. So she can feel me all over her body for the next day. I want to mark her.

I watch her hands claw and grip at the bedding as I plunge my shaft into her repeatedly. Lila’s hips move in tandem, rocking back in time with mine.

We’re our own symphony building toward our crescendo.

Feeling her walls clench around my cock, I flip her around again, wanting to see her face as she reaches her orgasm. Without asking, she reaches for those damn wooden slats of the headboard.

When we come, it’s not silent. It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s a surrender. And she’s the fucking captain.

Her body clenches around mine, and I bury my face in her neck as the release rips through both of us. She holds the slats like it’s salvation.

And I hold her.

She’s still trembling under me when I finally collapse onto the bed beside her, my breath ragged, her skin damp and flushed. Her fingers slide from the wood, dropping to the sheets like she’s too tired to move.

Outside, the storm has begun to quiet. Raindrops soften against the windows, thunder a distant grumble now. But inside me? It’s still chaos. The kind that stirs when you realize you’re halfway in love and unprepared for what comes next.

I turn my head and look at her. Lila’s lips are parted, her chest rising and falling like she just ran a mile, her waves splayed across my pillow. She’s breathtaking.

And she’s still here.

That matters more than I know how to explain.

“I should feel ridiculous,” she whispers after a minute, her voice still breathy. “I’m pretty sure I screamed. I hope I didn’t wake the kids.”

“You did, and they’re fine,” I say with a smile, my fingers brushing along her arm. “It was the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

She laughs softly, then goes quiet again.

For a long moment, we lie there. Nothing but the storm and the sound of our breathing. Her head shifts to rest on my chest, and I wrap my arm around her waist like it’s instinct.

“This wasn’t just sex,” I say vulnerably. Not a question. Not a plea. Just a fact I need spoken aloud.

“No,” she says, even quieter. “It wasn’t.”

I close my eyes, trying to breathe around the sudden weight in my chest. Because as terrifying as it is, I already know…

I want more. I want to wake up with her tangled in my sheets. I want her barefoot in the kitchen with a toddler on her hip and pancake batter on her shirt. I want what my best friend has. I want every ordinary, messy, beautiful day with her.

“You okay?” she asks after a long silence.

I nod once. Then again. “Yeah. Just… trying to hold on to this.”

She shifts onto her side, her hand sliding up to my chest, right over my heart. “It’s not going anywhere.”

But something in her voice tells me she doesn’t fully believe it.

And neither do I. Because we haven’t said the big things yet. Haven’t touched the sharp edges of what this all means.

I roll to face her, sliding my hand along her jaw, cupping her face. “I don’t do this, Lila. I don’t let people in. Not like this.”

She swallows. “I know.”

“I didn’t plan on you. I didn’t even know I could want something this real again. But I do. I want you. And not just in the jokingly ‘you’ll be my wife someday’ but for real in all the ways that matter.”

Her thumb brushes against my jaw. “You have me,” she whispers. “But—”

That word stops me.

But.

I brace for it.

“But I’m still scared,” she admits. “Scared of losing myself again. Of building a life around someone else’s world only to have it ripped out from under me.”

“I don’t want you to build your life around me,” I say gently. “I want you to build it with me. Your own life. Your own dreams. But maybe, if you let me, I can be a part of it.”

Her eyes shimmer. “You already are.”

And that’s when I know—I love her. Not because she fits into my life. But because she makes me want to be a better man inside it.

The morning smells like clean air and wet grass; the sky washed clear after the storm. Pale sunlight filters through the blinds, striping the sheets in gold. I wake slowly, the weight of something warm and soft pressed against my side.

Lila.

Her leg is draped over mine. One arm flung across my chest like she’s claiming me even in her sleep. Her hair’s a mess of waves across the pillow, and her lips are parted in a way that makes my chest ache and my body stir, even now.

But I don’t move. I just watch her breathe.

And for a man who once built walls so thick no one could see over them, I’ve never felt more exposed.

She shifts slightly, murmuring something that sounds like my name. Her palm presses firmly against my chest as if sensing that I’m already deep in my head.

“I’m still here,” she mumbles, not even opening her eyes.

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m not sure I deserve that.”

Her eyes blink open, sleepy but focused. “You deserve someone who sees you. All of you. Even the rough parts.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

After a few quiet minutes, she sits up and reaches for my T-shirt on the floor.

I watch her stretch as she pulls it on, the hem hitting high on her thighs.

It’s a simple thing but packs a powerful punch to my chest. But it guts me all over again.

I want this every morning. I want her to choose to stay.

I follow her into the kitchen, both of us barefoot and bleary. The kids are still asleep, the house wrapped in a rare kind of peace. I brew coffee while she digs through the pantry, humming quietly under her breath.

“I’ll make breakfast,” I offer.

She glances at me over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You mean you’ll reheat pancakes from yesterday.”

“Reheating is a form of cooking,” I deadpan.

She smirks and turns back to the cabinets.

God, I love that smirk.

We move around each other easily, bumping hips, passing mugs, brushing shoulders. Her fingers graze mine as she hands me the syrup, and I can’t help the way I lean in, kissing the curve of her neck.

She shivers, just a little, that adorable ass of hers rubbing against my brief-covered cock.

“Still trouble,” I murmur.

She grins. “You’re the one who told me to hold the headboard.”

My coffee nearly slips from my hand.

I clear my throat and turn to hide the grin threatening to split my face. “Worth it.”

A knock on the front door startles us both. I glance at the clock. Too early for a lawyer. Too early for a neighbor. I open the door, and it’s Rowan.

He holds up a bag of tools. “Tractor’s acting up. Mom and Dad are gone this morning. Thought I’d rope you into fixing it since you claim to know how to fix boats. I have it on the trailer out front.”

Lila appears beside me, wearing nothing but my T-shirt and her bare legs. Rowan’s eyes flick from her to me and back, and a slow measured smile spreads across his face. I can’t tell if he’s happy or angry. I’m shooting for the former.

“Morning,” he says, all innocent. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You are,” I say flatly.

Lila elbows me in the ribs. “We were just finishing pancakes.”

She disappears back inside, insisting I go help out her brother, and Rowan lets out a low growl. “So that’s new.”

“Don’t,” I mutter, grabbing my boots.

“I’m just saying, I hope you’re being good to her. That’s my sister. She’s one of the good ones.”

“I know,” I say. “That’s what scares me.” After begrudgingly leaving Lila and the kids, I follow Rowan out to the driveway.

We work in comfortable silence for a while, tinkering under the hood while the sun rises higher and the scent of coffee wafts from the open kitchen window.

Finally, Rowan speaks again, voice quiet this time. “You in deep?”

I nod once. “Deeper than I planned.”

“Does she know?”

“I think so.”

He glances toward the house. “Then stop waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Everyone deserves some kind of happiness, even asshole billionaires hooking up with my sister.”

I sit with that for a second.

Because happiness— real , bone-deep happiness—feels like a foreign language. One I’ve never been fluent in.

But Lila?

She makes me want to learn.

When we finish, I head back to the deck and find her sitting on the steps, watching the kids chase butterflies in the yard. Oliver yells something about being a butterfly hunter while Evelyn shrieks with laughter.

And Lila’s holding a small clear container in her lap.

“What’s that?” I ask as I get closer.

“Another chrysalis,” she says, smiling. “Found it on the side of the porch railing yesterday. Figured the kids could watch it hatch.”

I lower myself beside her, eyes on the tiny shell hanging from a stick inside the container. It’s still. Motionless. Waiting.

“Looks dead,” I murmur.

She grins. “Just looks that way. Inside, everything’s changing.”

That sits heavy in my chest. The weight of it. The truth of it.

“Like us?” I ask, voice quiet.

She doesn’t look at me. Just watches the kids run wild through the grass. “Yeah. Like us.”

I slide my arm around her and pull her close. She leans into me, warm and steady and real .

And for the first time since my father’s call, since the court date, since the past came knocking, I don’t feel like I’m bracing for impact.

I feel like I’m building something.

With her.