Page 178 of Let Me In

Another inch.

And another.

Until I feel him deep, filling me, stretching me.

Claiming every part of me that ever doubted I was wanted.

Before I can stop them, tears slip down my cheeks.

He catches them with his thumb, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand cradles my face like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, and holding me is the only thing tethering him to earth.

His jaw flexes. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm that’s barely restrained, a tremor riding every breath. The weight of him, the warmth, the depth—he surrounds me completely, like a storm choosing not to break.

His voice is a vow against my skin. As if he can't say it enough.

“You’re mine now.”

He stays still for a moment, buried so deep I can barely breathe. Letting me feel all of him. Letting himself feel it too.

My legs tremble where they’re wrapped around his waist.

My fingers curl into his shoulders, and all I can do is look at him, at the way his jaw is clenched, the way his eyes burn with want barely contained.

His voice is barely more than a breath.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl. Let me hear it—every bit of it. I need to know I’m giving you what you need.”

His voice is a tether, low and gravelly, thick with restraint and care. Only just holding back, but refusing to let himself go. One hand still braces beside my head, the other cradling my jaw like I might break if he doesn’t hold me just right. His gaze burns down into mine, steady and searching, like he’s cataloguing every flicker of emotion across my face.

Not just asking. Needing. Like my answer matters more than his own release. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking as he looks down at me like I’m something sacred. Like hearing me say it will undo him as much as being inside me already has.

I try to find words, but it’s everything. Big and overwhelming and grounding all at once.

“It’s… a lot,” I whisper. “Full.”

He leans down and kisses my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.

“You’re taking me so good,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ tight around me. Like you were made for me, baby.”

He pulls back.

Just an inch.

Then pushes back in—slow and deep.

A long, steady glide.

I gasp.

The stretch is thick and aching and perfect. Cal groans above me, low and rough.

“God, baby. You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Another thrust. Deep again. Measured, unrelenting. Every inch of him sliding into me like he’s meant to be there.

His hand finds mine. Laces our fingers together above my head, his grip firm and grounding. His thumb brushes the back of my hand like he’s soothing something deeper than skin.

He keeps his eyes on me as he moves.

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