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She whimpers and I freeze, searching her face. “Don’t stop,” she exhales, her fingers digging into my shoulders enough to leave marks. “It’s just…bigger than I’m used to.”

A rush of satisfaction moves through me at her admission, but it’s quickly eclipsed by the trust in her eyes. That matters more than any boost to my ego ever could. I continue sinking into her, fighting every instinct that screams at me to thrust hard and take what I've wanted for so long. But this isn't about taking. It's about giving and showing her what she means to me in a language that goes beyond words.

When I'm fully seated inside her, buried as deep as I can go, I have to force myself to be still. Every muscle in my body trembles with the effort of holding back, but it's not just the intensity of the moment that steals my breath. It's Peyton. Every twist and turn of my life led me here, to this exact moment. I've spent the last months chasing fleeting moments of happiness, convincing myself they were enough. They weren't. Not compared to this. I don't want this moment to end. More than that, I don't ever want to lose the woman beneath me.

“God,” I breathe out, dropping my forehead to hers. “You feel…”

I can't finish the sentence. There aren't the right words to describe how I feel. Peyton gives me a quick, yet reassuring kiss and that's all the encouragement I need. I pull back, then push in again, establishing a rhythm. Her body softens around me, welcoming me deeper with each thrust.

I watch her face, cataloging every expression, every flutter of her eyelashes and parting of her lips. The way her breathing hitches when I angle my body to hers just right, hitting the magical spot inside her. The flush spreading down her neck and chest as I keep moving. Every moment is captured in my mind.

“That's it,” I rasp. “Just like that. You're doing so good, sweetheart.”

She moans softly and the sound goes straight through me. I increase my pace, feeling the building pleasure that threatens to consume me. Her eyes stay locked on mine. And I’m nearly undone. I've never felt so seen and it’s only our first time having sex.

“You're so perfect like this, full of me and taking it all like I knew you would,” I tell her, because she needs to know. “So damn perfect.”

Her toes curl against the sheets, and her body tightens, making my vision blur at the edges. More moans escape her, each one spurring me on, making it harder to maintain control. I change the angle again, making her entire body arch beneath me.

“Ollie,” she gasps, and hearing my name from her lips has something primal surging in my chest.

“I've got you,” I promise like earlier, even as my own control starts to fray. “Let go, sweetheart. I've got you.”

My muscles burn with exertion, sweat beading on my skin, but I don't stop. Won't stop. Not until she comes apart beneath me with a satisfied cry that I'll hear in my dreams for the rest of my life. Peyton’s body clenches and she clings to me. The sight of her, lost in pleasure I give her, is the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.

I try to make myself last longer, but her release triggers mine. The tension that's been coiling at the base of my spine snaps and I'm coming hard, filling the condom. My entire body tenses and waves of pleasure sweep through me. Her name falls from my lips like a prayer.

Afterwards, we lie there, my body covering hers, bare skin against bare skin. The room is quiet except for the steady rhythm of our breathing and the summer rain tapping against the window. For a long moment, neither of us says anything. I simply hold her, my fingertips tracing absentminded circles along her arm while the weight of everything we've shared settles over me.

I've never understood why people called sex life-changing. Sure, it was fun in the past and I'd enjoyed it with different partners. But it had never been this special. If I could freeze time, I'd do it without a second thought. But I can't. As much as I want to stay exactly where I am, holding her against me, I know there's one more thing I need to do.

Carefully, I slip out of her, my cock still half-hard, and move to the side. She makes a small sound of protest and I smile despite the post-sex exhaustion.

“I’m just getting rid of the condom and finding something to clean you up with,” I say, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. She only sighs as a reply.

I force myself out of bed and into the bathroom, my legs unsteady. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, looking thoroughly wrecked in the best way, a pleased laugh slips out. I look like a man who just had the best sex of his life.

Because I did.

Not because it was the most intense or passionate night I've ever had, but because it was ours. I don't feel like I'm chasing something that's always just out of reach. I feel like I've finally found it. It should scare me, but blame how deeply I feel for Peyton or my post-sex haze, it doesn’t.

Grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet, I wet it with warm water and return to Peyton. I settle beside her and take my time cleaning her, making sure I'm as gentle as I can be. She lets me tend to her without a hint of embarrassment, and the simple act feels almost as significant as everything we'd just shared. It's another piece of herself she's placing in my hands, another way of saying I trust you.

Taking care of people has always come naturally to me, but letting someone take care of me never has. Somewhere between her trusting me enough to be this vulnerable and the way she looked at me afterward without a trace of fear or hesitation, I realize we're both learning the same lesson. Love isn't about keeping score. It's about taking turns carrying each other.

When I'm finished cleaning both of us, I set the washcloth aside and can't resist brushing my knuckles lightly along her cheek. I don't think I'll ever get tired of the way she instinctively leans into my touch. Peyton does it again now, wearing a sleepy smile and my heart threatens to climb straight out of my chest.

I bring the covers over us, immediately reaching for her underneath. Peyton comes to me willingly, settling against my chest like she's always belonged there. My fingers trace patterns along her spine, following the curve of her back, unable to stop touching her now that I've started. I press a kiss into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with the musk of sex and sweat.

“Stay,” I say and the word comes out more uncertain than I intended, almost pleading. She threads her fingers through mine beneath the covers, and I tighten my hold around her without thinking. Neither of us says another word as we fall asleep together.

25

OLLIE

Iwake before the alarm to find Peyton curled against me. One of her legs wraps around mine, as if she staked her claim in her sleep and decided I wasn't going anywhere. I don't mind. If anything, I don't think I've ever felt more certain that I wanted to stay exactly where I am.

I've been single for a while now. I've dated, flirted and gone home with women and men that I never saw again. Those nights were exactly what I needed: simple, uncomplicated and over before either of us could mistake them for something else. I never lied about what I wanted. After my last long-term relationship, freedom suited me. Waking up alone was predictable, and predictable had always felt safer than needing someone who could disappear.