Page 63

She makes this sound. A low, breathy hum that vibrates right through my chest, and then she’s pressing harder, her body flush against mine, every curve fitting like we were made to line up like this.

We pull back, only for a moment, only by an inch. But it feels like a chasm.

And then I see her.

The porch light hits her face just right. Cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the kiss. Her cardigan hangs loose off one shoulder, clinging to her arms, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to catch her breath but doesn’t want to.

She looks undone in the most beautiful way. Like this moment is all she’s thinking about.

And something in me snaps.

Fuck it.

I lift her. It’s instinct. No hesitation. My hands slide to her waist, and she lets out the softest gasp as I hoist her up onto the edge of the garden wall.

Her legs wrap around my hips, her arms looping around my neck like she’s been waiting for this all night.

She looks at me like she feels it too, that crackling, no-turning-back energy.

And Christ, she’s never looked more irresistible.

That cardigan slips further, revealing the slinky little number she must’ve changed into after Mia went to bed. It clings to her like liquid, the kind of fabric that makes you want to touch just to see how it feels under your hands.

And Jesus . It’s not just thin. It’s sheer .

The light behind her silhouettes everything, and when I glance down, I can see the gentle curve of her breasts, the outline of her nipples pebbled through the fabric. Whether from the cold or from me, I don’t know.

But I don’t care.

I swallow hard, heart hammering so loud it’s all I can hear. “You did this on purpose,” I murmur, dragging my hands up the backs of her thighs, fingers catching on the hem of her dress.

Her breath hitches, but her smile is wicked. “Maybe.”

My hands slide higher, skimming the smooth line of her hips, her ribs. Every inch of her I’ve only imagined touching until now. “You’re breathtaking, Ellie.”

She shifts against me, pulling me tighter between her legs, and her mouth finds mine again. Hungrier this time.

No softness. No hesitation. Just fire.

I groan into the kiss, hands fisting in the fabric of her dress as her teeth graze my lower lip, tugging lightly.

The way she’s clinging to me, grinding against me. It’s everything, too much, and not enough all at once.

Her dress rides higher as she moves, the silky fabric slipping up her thighs, exposing smooth, bare skin to the cool night air.

I press closer, desperate for more friction, more heat, running both palms up the sides of her legs and gripping her ass like she might slip through my fingers if I don’t hold her there.

I trail kisses down her neck, tasting her, and the way her pulse jumps beneath my mouth threatens to unravel me.

She tips her head back, giving me more, always giving me more, and I take it, mouth hot on her collarbone, tongue skimming the dip where her heartbeat pounds hard and fast.

“Fuck, Ellie,” I whisper against her skin, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughs. A low, breathless sound that sends another bolt of heat surging through me.

I press my forehead to hers. We’re both breathless now, still moving, still clinging to each other like letting go might break the spell—or burn us both to ash.

“I want you,” she whispers, voice raw and unguarded. And the way she says it, like a confession, undoes me completely. “I want this—with you.”

“Me too. Christ .” My hands tighten around her hips. I lean in, brushing my mouth against hers, grinning now. “But I’m not taking you on a garden wall, baby.”

She laughs at that, ducking her head and burying it in my shoulder, warmth blooming between us. I hook a finger beneath her chin, coaxing her face back to mine.

And then I kiss her again. Slower this time. Deeper.

I try to memorise it all—the quiet sigh she breathes into my mouth, the way her body shifts closer, like instinct.

My hands cradle her face, thumbs skimming along her jaw. Her cheeks are flushed, her skin hot with want, and I swear I could spend forever right here. Learning her by heart.

We’re moving without thinking now. Her legs tightening around my waist, her hips rolling against me, seeking friction, chasing something we’re both aching for.

It’s messy and clumsy, and perfect. Every gasp from her, every groan from me, feels like it leaves a mark.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to make me growl into her mouth. And when she rocks against me again, harder this time, a sharp, helpless noise escapes my throat before I can swallow it down.

I kiss her like I’m starved, like she’s the only thing that’s ever tasted real.

Her hands are everywhere. Gripping my shoulders, sliding under my hoodie, fingernails grazing my skin. And I can feel the fine tremble in her body that matches my own.

God, I want her. Here. Now. Against the wall, under the stars, with nothing between us but heat and need.

I slide my hands up the backs of her thighs again, higher this time, dragging her closer, feeling the sheer heat of her pressed against me.

I want to tear this fucking dress off her. I want to lay her back and find every inch of her. I want to hear the sounds she makes when it’s my mouth, my hands, my body driving her over the edge.

I want it all. But even through the haze of lust, something in me pulls the reins tight. Not like this. Not rushed. Not out here in the cold, with the house full of people.

She deserves better than that. She deserves everything.

I pull back. Just enough to rest my forehead against hers again, forcing myself to breathe, to think.

My chest heaves. Her chest heaves. We’re both trembling with the effort it takes not to just lose it right here.

“Baby,” I rasp, barely getting the words out. “Not like this.”

She blinks, dazed and beautiful and wrecked, her hands still curled in the front of my hoodie like she never wants to let go.

“We’ll get there,” I promise her, brushing a kiss to her temple, slow and reverent. “I swear to God, we will. But not here. Not like this.”

Her forehead drops to my shoulder with a soft, wrecked laugh, and I hold her there, breathing her in, feeling the fine, shaking tension still thrumming between us.

I kiss her temple again. Her hair. Anywhere I can reach without taking it further.

“I want to take my time with you,” I whisper. “All of you. No rushing. Just... us. And I swear to you, Ellie. It will be worth the wait.”

She lifts her head after a moment, and the look in her eyes guts me. Soft, brave, full of something I can’t even name but feel down to the bone.

“So, what now?” she breathes.

I smile, trace the line of her jaw with my thumb. “Now,” I murmur, voice rough and full of every feeling I can’t say out loud yet, “I walk you inside.”

She doesn’t move right away. Just stays wrapped around me.

I can still feel the flutter of her heartbeat beneath my hands, the way her dress clings to her in the chill, her skin flushed and electric.

And then she nods.

I shift her more securely in my arms, lifting her as I cross the garden, still peppering kisses to her neck.

The back porch light catches in her hair, soft and golden, and she tucks her face into the crook of my shoulder like she’s grounding herself there. Like I’m the safest place she knows. And fuck, I never want to put her down.

But we’re not alone tonight. The house is still full of people— our people . And as much as I want to steal her upstairs and finish what we started, this isn’t that moment.

So instead, I carry her to the back door, nudging it open with my foot, and step back into the warmth of the kitchen that’s still dimly lit. Still scattered with the aftermath of the evening.

And of course, because the universe has a twisted sense of humour, standing right there by the fridge, beer in one hand and a leftover breadstick in the other, is Luca.

He glances up, clocks us instantly.

Ellie wrapped around me. My hands gripping the backs of her thighs like I’ve forgotten how to stand without her.

His brow arches.. His mouth quirks. And then he says, deadpan. “Well. That escalated.”

Ellie groans against my neck, burying her face there with a muffled laugh.

I glance at Luca. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not saying anything,” he says, way too casually, taking a sip of his beer. “But if you’re planning on defiling the kitchen table, can you at least move the bead kits first? Pretty sure Mia’s making me a bracelet.”

Ellie laughs against my skin, the sound vibrating straight through me, and I feel her shift, cheeks flushed as she unwinds herself from me and slides down to the floor.

“I hate all of you,” she mutters, tugging her cardigan back up around her shoulders like it might shield her.

Luca lifts his bottle in salute. “And yet, we’re the ones who bring snacks and emotional stability. You’re welcome.”

Ellie rolls her eyes and flicks a bead at his chest. He doesn’t even flinch.

“I see the foreplay’s over, then. I’ll be in the living room. If you hear moaning, it’s just Ryder losing at Uno.”

As he saunters off, I glance at Ellie, who’s still pink-cheeked and breathless beside me.

Her eyes meet mine and we both break, laughing.

God, I love this madness. And her? I’m done pretending I don’t.

But that’s what terrifies me, too.

I exhale slowly, watching the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the way her fingers linger near mine like she doesn’t want to let go.

I don’t either.

“Hey,” I say softly.

She turns to me, brows lifting. “Yeah?”

I hesitate. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, like the words are stuck there, like if I say them out loud it’ll make them real.

But if I don’t say it now, I’ll spiral with it later. “What if I mess this up?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Her expression shifts, brows pulling together, not confused, just, soft. Like she hears what I’m not saying. “Mess what up?” she asks.

“This.” I motion between us. “You. Me. All of it.”

I look at her and I see everything I’ve been chasing without knowing it. Not the noise, not the crowds, not the rush of being on stage. Just this, quiet and real and terrifying.

Because if it’s real... it can be lost.

“I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” I say, voice rough around the edges. “And even then... not like this. This feels like it matters.”

“It does,” she says softly.

I nod, eyes dropping to the floor between us where her knee rests so close to mine I can feel the heat of her.

“And I’ve been the guy who leaves,” I admit.

“Or the one who stays half-in, one foot out the door. And I told myself that’s just who I was.

Like if I didn’t give too much, I couldn’t lose too much either. ”

I shake my head, the old self-loathing rising, thick and familiar. “But you’re here. And you’re you. And I just keep thinking... what if I don’t know how to do this? What if trying isn’t enough?”

The words catch in my throat. I force them out anyway.

“I’m trying to be so strong for you, Ellie. But I’m scared. Scared I’ll fall short. Scared I’ll let you down. Scared I’ll end up being someone else you regret. And I don’t want that. You mean too much to me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts closer until her knee brushes mine, her hand sliding into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it is. Maybe this is what it feels like when you stop running.

“You won’t be,” she says, voice steady, anchoring me. “And you don’t have to have all the answers right now. Fuck, I don’t either. And my life’s a sodding mess.”

She lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh, but there’s no bite to it. Just truth. “I’m figuring things out one step at a time, barely keeping my head above water most days. But that doesn’t mean this…” she squeezes my hand. “Isn’t real. Or that it doesn’t matter.”

I nod slowly, the knot in my chest tightening and loosening all at once. “Still scared I’ll mess it up anyway.”

She squeezes my hand again, firmer. “Then let’s not think about messing it up. Let’s not think ten steps ahead at all.”

Her eyes meet mine. Clear, unwavering, and so sure it undoes me.

“Everything’s still messy,” she says. “For me, for you. There’s so much I haven’t figured out yet, and the last thing I want is to try and shove this into some neat little box it doesn’t belong in. We don’t need to label anything. We don’t need to rush.”

I stay quiet, letting her words settle deep.

She takes a breath. “Whatever this is, it’s special. It was back then. It still is now. But it doesn’t have to be perfect or make sense overnight. We can just... see where it goes. One day at a time.”

My throat feels tight.

But for the first time, it’s not fear choking me.

It’s hope.

I nod again, slower this time. “Okay.”

Her thumb brushes across the back of my hand. “Okay.”

And somehow, just like that, I believe her.