I gave it by closing the distance. My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down until his forehead rested against mine.
His breath was warm.
“I don’t want this to feel like something we have to steal,” I whispered. I craved the freedom to just be, and when that could happen in Michigan seemed so far away.
His hands went to my hips, slow, deliberate, like he was grounding himself as much as me. “Then don’t treat it like that.”
The simplicity of that answer hit harder than it should have. So I kissed him.
His response was immediate but not overwhelming. He didn’t take. He matched. His hands gripped my waist then eased as if reminding himself to go slow.
My fingers threaded into his hair, and the soft exhale he gave against my mouth made my knees weaken in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Are you sure?” he asked. There was no hesitation in him. Just respect.
“Yeah. With you, I always am,” I said.
That was all he needed. He kissed me again, deeper this time. Not rushed. Not desperate. But intentional. Like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth.
The balcony suddenly felt too exposed. Too open.
I tugged him toward the door. He followed without question.
Inside, the house was still loud enough to give us cover. Avery’s laugh echoed down the hall. Music thumped from somewhere below. No one was paying attention to us.
Luke’s hand stayed locked in mine as we moved down the hallway. When we reached the bedroom at the end, he shut the door softly behind us.
The click of the lock felt heavier than it should have.
He turned toward me slowly, giving me time to change my mind. I didn’t.
The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp we’d left on when we dropped our bags inside.
For a second, we just stood there. Looking. As if acknowledging that this wasn’t about escaping anything. It was about choosing.
He reached for me first this time. His palm traced along my jaw, thumb brushing just beneath my cheekbone. The tenderness of it made my throat tighten.
His kiss deepened, slower now, heavier. My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the ripple of his muscles beneath my palms. He sucked in a breath against my mouth, and the sound went straight through me.
We moved together without thinking. Shoes kicked aside. Fabric tugged free. Every touch measured and unhurried, like neither of us wanted to speed through the first moment that didn’t feel stolen.
When he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside, heat rushed through me. The quiet certainty thathe was exactly where I wanted him.
He stepped closer, pressing his forehead to mine again.
I wrapped my arms around his waist. The way his hands moved down my back, firm and careful all at once, made something inside me unravel.
We fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and breath and soft laughter that felt almost disbelieving. Like we couldn’t quite accept that this moment belonged to us.
His mouth moved down my neck, slow enough to make me arch toward him without thinking. My fingers traced over his shoulders, down his back, my star pendant brushing against his chest as I held on to him.
There was no hurry. Skin against skin. His name slipping from my lips in a whisper that felt like a promise.
When he finally lowered over me, weight supported on his forearms, he looked down at me like I was something rare.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you, too.”