Page 64 of Caden & Theo
“Every time I closed my eyes, it was you,” he says, voice rough. “At practice, on the bench, alone in hotel rooms—you.”
My breath hitches as he peels off my shirt, and then we’re skin to skin, warmth sinking deep between us.
He unhurriedly kisses down my chest, like he’s rediscovering everything. My body arches beneath him, desperate for more, but I don’t rush him. Ican’t. There’s something sacred in the way he touches me. Like I’m not just a body, but something he’schoosing—over the game, over the grind, over the walls we’ve had to build.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispers against my ribs.
“You,” I say without hesitation. “I just needyou.”
He looks up at me then—really looks—and his eyes go soft in that way that undoes me. “I love you,” he says, like it’s stitched into his breath.
I reach for him, pull him up until we’re face-to-face again, and kiss him. “I love you too,” I whisper back.
The way he holds me—gentle, sure, like I’m breakable but also made of fire—makes me feel both cherished and wanted in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love.
Our bodies move together like they remember everything.
It’s not rushed this time. Not desperate.
It’s slow.
It’s deep.
It’s the kind of intimacy that feels like confession. Like every press of skin is a vow. Every gasp a promise.
He whispers to me the entire time—soft, hot words that make my heart race faster than my pulse. “You’re beautiful,” he says as his mouth finds my chest again. “I dream about you. About this. About touching you again.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, dragging my fingers down his spine. “You’re mine,” I whisper back. “Every inch of you.”
“You’vealwayshad me,” he says. “Since that first night we got hot and heavy on your couch.”
I laugh at the memory. “You were wearing mismatched socks and fell asleep on my thigh.”
“Best nap of my life.”
His mouth finds mine again, and the kiss deepens, hands tangling, bodies moving in a rhythm we haven’t forgotten, even after all these weeks. Every sound I make, he answers with a kiss or a gentle word. Every touch he gives, I echo back in kind. And when he finally settles over me, pressing into me with a kind of reverence that makes my eyes sting, I don’t hold anything back.
I let him see me. All of me. Because I trust him.
Because it’shim.
“Caden,” I whisper, voice cracking just slightly.
“I know,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’ve got you. Ialwayshave you.”
It’s the kind of connection that makes the world fall away. There’s nothing else—just his body, his breath, the way we move together like we were built for this. For each other.
I don’t know how long it lasts. Time becomes meaningless. We lose ourselves in each other, in the sound of our breathing, the slide of skin, the whisperedI love yousandmissed yousandstay with me.
And when it’s over, when we’re tangled up in the sheets and each other, limbs heavy, hearts pounding, I feel more full than I have in weeks. Not just physically but emotionally. Like something empty inside me finally filled.
Caden runs his fingers through my hair in a gentle and soothing gesture. “You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod against his chest. “Better than okay.”
He kisses the top of my head. “You were amazing.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I tease, even though my throat’s still tight.
