Page 51 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

Their laughter settled low in his chest, softer than anything else in the day.

Jules curled against him, hands threading through his hair, the tension that had haunted both of them finally loosening.

“You know,” they murmured, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “I’m glad we talked tonight.

I kept wondering if living apart would ruin everything? ”

Keaton held them tighter, letting his own fear bleed out in the steadying pressure of his arms. “We’re not going to ruin anything. If we have to, we’ll build it again. As many times as it takes.”

Jules’s mouth found his—tentative, then sure.

The kiss was slow, as if both were testing the boundaries of this new, careful hope.

Keaton let Jules set the pace, hands wandering under his shirt, finding skin, heat, a pulse that beat in time with his own.

He surrendered to their touch, letting them tug the shirt over his head.

Jules’s hands mapped the planes of his back, thumbs digging in where tension still lived.

Keaton pressed a kiss to Jules’s shoulder, then their throat, then back to their mouth—each one a wordless promise.

They fell into bed together, neither in a hurry to undress, letting touch say what words couldn’t.

Jules moved above him, confidence returning in the way they guided his hands, the way their body settled over his with certainty.

He traced the tattoo on their wrist, thumbing over fern and ink. “I never want you to have any doubts about going after what you want,” he whispered, voice low, rough.

Jules smiled against his mouth, their hands sliding to cup his jaw. “I don’t. And I have the courage to go after the things I’m too scared to want because you see me. Even when I can’t see myself.”

Keaton’s hands explored Jules’s body with a reverence that came from months of studying their every curve and freckle.

Each touch was a silent vow, a promise to cherish and protect.

He felt Jules’s breath hitch as his fingers brushed over sensitive spots, and he reveled in the power of that reaction, the trust it implied.

Jules, in turn, guided Keaton’s hands, showing him the rhythm and pressure that brought the most pleasure, their body arching into his touch. They weren’t shy about letting Keaton know what they wanted, and he realized letting them take the lead tonight was a perfect way to end the day.

As Keaton’s hands traced the line of Jules’s waistband, he couldn’t help but grin.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about getting you out of these jeans all night.

Hell, I drove past the mural this afternoon while you were working, and you were bent over doing something.

It took everything in me to not throw you into the car and take you home so I could see this perfect ass bent over just for me. ”

Jules chuckled, their eyes sparkling with amusement and desire. “Oh yeah? And what were you planning to do once you had me out of them?”

Keaton leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Jules’s neck, then murmuring in their ear, “I thought I’d start by kissing every inch of you. Then maybe I’d let my hands explore a bit more.”

Jules shivered, their breath coming a little faster. “I like the sound of that. But you know, I’ve been thinking too.” Their hands moved to the buttons of Keaton’s shirt, undoing them slowly, one by one. “I’ve been thinking about how much I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Keaton’s heart pounded as Jules pushed his shirt off his shoulders, their fingers trailing over his chest. He captured Jules’s mouth in a deep kiss, his hands moving to cup their face. When they broke apart, he whispered, “I want that too. So much.”

Together, they worked on each other’s clothes. Each piece of clothing removed reinforced their playful and emotional connection. Keaton couldn’t help but laugh as Jules struggled with his belt, their fingers fumbling in their eagerness. “Here, let me,” he said softly, taking over.

As they were both bared to the other, Keaton felt a rush of longing and need. He pulled Jules close, their bodies pressing together, skin to skin. “God, I love you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Jules looked up at him, their eyes soft and trusting. “I love you too, Keaton. So much.”

“Tell me what you need, Jules,” Keaton murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He needed to hear it, needed to know that he was giving enough, that he was enough.

Jules looked up at him, their eyes soft and trusting. “Just you, Keaton. Like this. Slow and steady.”

Keaton felt Jules’s heartbeat, steady and strong, as he kissed their neck, their shoulders, their chest. He took his time, savoring the taste and feel of Jules’s skin, the soft gasps and moans that escaped their lips.

Jules reached for the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube. Keaton took it, his hands steady despite the pounding of his heart. He slicked his fingers, then gently, carefully, prepared Jules, watching their face for any sign of discomfort. But all he saw was pleasure, trust, and love.

“You’re so beautiful, Jules,” Keaton breathed, his voice choked with emotion. “So perfect for me.”

Jules smiled up at him, their eyes shining. “I love you, Keaton. And I can’t wait until we have this every night again. Now, would you fuck me already?”

“I think you forgot something.” Keaton glanced toward the nightstand. While he’d love nothing more than to watch his cum drip from Jules’s ass after making love to them, he wasn’t about to make any assumptions or push Jules to ditch the condoms before they were ready.

Jules threaded their fingers into the short hair at the back of Keaton’s neck, pulling them down for a passionate kiss. When they separated, Jules stared directly into Keaton’s eyes. “I didn’t forget. I want you tonight. All of you. I want to feel you inside me.”

Well then. That was pretty definitive. Keaton positioned himself over Jules, his eyes locked on theirs. He saw the moment Jules gave him the green light, a slight nod, a soft smile. He entered slowly, carefully, feeling Jules’s body stretch to accommodate him.

He paused, giving Jules time to adjust, then began to move, his hips rocking gently.

But it wasn’t only Jules who needed a moment.

Keaton had never skipped the condom during sex, not because it was something special to share with the person he loved, but because he wasn’t stupid.

Now, he didn’t see any reason to use them.

They’d talked about tests and such, and he knew they were both negative.

Jules was it for him, the only person he’d ever take this way for as long as Jules kept him around.

Their bodies found a rhythm, a dance that was theirs alone.

Keaton could feel the pleasure building, not just in his body, but in his heart, his soul.

This was more than sex, more than physical release.

This was connection, this was love. This was the promise of a future together, a future they were building one touch, one kiss, one shared breath at a time.

“God, Keaton, you feel so good,” Jules gasped, their body arching to meet his thrusts. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Keaton leaned down, capturing Jules’s lips in a searing kiss. “Never,” he promised. “I’ll never stop loving you, Jules.”

Keaton felt Jules’s body responding to his, their pleasure building in tandem. He reached between them, his hand wrapping around Jules’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Jules’s breath hitched, their body tensing, and Keaton knew they were close.

“Come for me, Jules,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Let me see you, let me feel you.”

Jules’s body arched, their head thrown back as they came, their release spilling over Keaton’s hand. The sight of Jules lost in pleasure pushed Keaton over the edge, and he followed, his body shuddering with the force of his own release.

In the aftermath, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in sync. Keaton held Jules close, his arms wrapped around them, their legs intertwined. He could feel Jules’s breath against his chest, their heartbeat slowing, their body relaxing into his.

They talked in the hush, their voices soft, their words a whisper of the future they were building together.

They talked about their dream home, about how much closet space Jules would need, and about what color the front door should be.

Keaton played along, describing a sunroom filled with plants, a kitchen where Jules could teach him to make something other than midnight grilled cheese and spaghetti.

Their lovemaking had been a conversation, a dialogue of touch and sensation, and now they continued it with words, their voices blending together in the quiet of the night.

“I want to build a life with you, Jules,” Keaton said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “A life where we wake up together every morning, where we go to bed together every night. A life where we support each other’s dreams and face our fears together.”

Jules looked up at him, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “I want that too, Keaton. So much.”

As they lay there, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating as one, Keaton knew he had found his home, his haven, his forever.

And he would do everything in his power to protect it, to nurture it, to help it grow.

Because this love, this connection, was worth fighting for.

It was worth every sacrifice, every compromise, every ounce of effort. It was, quite simply, everything.