Page 61 of One Pucking Life

Not hungry. Not desperate. Not playful.

This one is slow. Reverent. It’s the kind of kiss that speaks when words fall short. The kind that saysI see you.I choose you.I’m not going anywhere.

She melts into me, her hands sliding around my back, fingers gripping my skin like she needs to anchor herself. My mouth moves with hers, mapping out the contours I already know but never get tired of. Her lips are soft, trembling slightly, but there’s nothing hesitant in the way she kisses me back.

I can feel it. All of it.

The fear. The surrender. The hope.

It wraps around us like a thread being tied, looping tighter with every brush of her lips against mine, every sigh she releases into my mouth.

And I know.

We just crossed a line we can’t uncross.

But I don’t want to.

Without a word, I scoop her into my arms. She lets out a soft gasp, her arms looping around my neck as I carry her to the bed. Her hair fans across the pillows as I lay her down like she’s something precious. Because she is.

I kneel beside her and run the back of my fingers along her cheek. Her skin is flushed, her eyes shining. “You sure?”

Her answer comes in the form of a kiss—this one less careful. We remove our clothing, and she pulls me down to her, guiding my body over hers.

When I slide inside her, it’s not frantic or rough. It’s deep and aching and slow—like we’re memorizing every inch, every gasp, every trembling inhale. She feels incredible.

She wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me closer, deeper.

I brace my weight on my forearms, framing her face, and I can’t stop looking at her. Her eyes are wide open, locked onmine, her pupils blown wide with need—but it’s more than that. There’s something sacred in her expression. Raw. Unfiltered.

I press my forehead to hers and whisper, “You feel like home.”

Her breath catches, and her eyes flutter shut as I start to move again—smooth, rhythmic strokes meant to worship, not just satisfy.

We move together like we’ve done this a thousand times like we were built for this exact moment.

Her hands roam my back, my shoulders, my face. And when her release hits, she clings to me, moaning my name like a prayer, and I follow seconds later, emptying everything I have into the space between us—every fear, every longing, every unspoken promise.

We stay like that, tangled in each other, our skin damp with sweat and hearts beating as one.

I roll to my side and pull her with me, tucking her close. There’s still so much to say. So much to figure out.

But not tonight.

Tonight is about this. Her. Us.

The fragility of this relationship hangs in the air, but I’m not afraid. It’s all going to work out. It has to. I’ve never felt more certain about anything in my life.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

DELANEY

Iwake to the steady rhythm of Max’s heart beating beneath my cheek. His arm is draped across my waist, his fingers splayed protectively against my bare skin, like if he lets go, I might disappear.

The room is quiet—dim morning light slipping through the edges of the hotel’s blackout curtains. I can tell it’s early, but notCarolineearly. Just early enough to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist yet.

I don’t move.

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