Page 53 of When We Are Falling

“I’m sure.”

He adjusts my weight, bringing me down right onto him, and he’s slowly pushing inside me until he’s fully sheathed, nothing between us. It’s too much for a moment, and I gasp, but then he starts to move and thetoo muchbecomesso good.

His hips are thrusting, and my body is tight around him, the spray of the water hitting us both, my nails digging into his shoulders as he picks up the pace. We don’t kiss, he just stares at me as he slams into me over and over, droplets of water in the dark fringe of his lashes.

I’m tightening around him, getting closer to another release. He must see it in my face because he groans out my name, his strokes getting harder and faster. I reach the edge and dive over, falling, eyes closed as I come again.

The world melts away, leaving only me and Ethan and the intense pleasure coursing through me, overwhelming and all-consuming. And I’m soaring, free and weightless.

He follows soon after, his cock pulsing as he comes inside me, before he finally stills, his shoulders curving toward me, our foreheads touching.

We stay like that for a moment under the water, him still inside me, my legs wrapped around him, his breathing heavy, chest rising and falling, eyes closed. Then he pulls out and slowly lowers me to the ground, his arms bracketing me.

We stand under the hot water, our bodies pressed together, and he kisses me, softer, more tenderly than before, his lips lingering on mine.

“That was incredible, princess,” he says, his voice still hoarse with desire.

His lips capture mine in another kiss that sends a wave of heat through my core, and I melt into him, relishing the way his strong arms hold me, how safe and cared for I feel.

The worries that constantly gnaw at the back of my mind slip into my thoughts, as well as the fact that Ethan will want me to open up about it all, to lean on him now we’re in a real, defined relationship.

But I push it all away, even though a small part of me wonders if I’m just burying my head in the sand, ignoring all the ways being in a relationship are going to change things.

Then he kisses me again, deeper this time, and all my doubts go quiet.

Something that feels this right can’t possibly be wrong.

Chapter 24

Blake

Walkingdown Main Street toward the bank with the Tavern’s meager earnings for the week, the kernel of worry in my gut grows. The sun is warm on my back, but there’s a heavy, cold feeling in my chest as I get closer to the branch—each week the deposit has been getting smaller and smaller.

We finished up our turn at the wildlife center on Friday, and this week Ethan’s group moved back to the beach. I’ve just spent a long morning picking up tar balls in the shadow of the lighthouse—it was hard work, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, although the smell of oil still lingers even though I was wearing gloves and washed my hands several times since finishing.

Passing the quaint shops lining Main Street, my phone pings. My heart skips a beat, and I’m reaching for it, hoping it’s David finally returning my messages. Instead, it’s Ethan. A smile spreads across my face as I read his text, telling me how beautiful I am and how he can’t wait to see me later.

He’s coming to my hip-hop class tonight. He was hesitant when I asked, but he agreed, which kind of shocked me. Everyone knows Ethan doesn’t dance, and just the thought of him trying to follow along makes me giggle. But there’s a method to my madness—he’s been extra pedantic with everyone on the beach, and I want to remind him how much more fun he has when he lets go of his intense need to control everything just a little.

It’s been a week since we decided to give our relationship a proper go, and it’s been amazing. Ethan is still a control freak about a lot of things—like organizing the cleanup crew and planning out our days down to the minute—but it’s just who he is. And honestly, part of me loves that about him. He makes me feel grounded in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

And even though he doesn’t listen sometimes, I know he’s doing it because he cares. Like how he insists on helping me clean the bar even though I’ve told him a hundred times that I’m fine. He’ll take a sponge, his jaw set in that determined way of his, and start scrubbing the bar himself, like he can’t handle just watching while I work.

When we’re grocery shopping, he’ll meticulously arrange the cart, making sure nothing gets squished, and then later, when we’re making dinner, he’ll take over entirely, insisting he has the perfect recipe and that I should just relax and enjoy the meal.

I’ve realized it’s not about him thinking I can’t do it. It’s his way of showing he cares, of making sure everything is perfect for me. And the truth is, I’ve grown to appreciate it even if it irks me sometimes. His need to control every detail is just one of those mildly annoying quirks that can actually be pretty endearing.

When he calls to remind me of our plans for the day, or sends a text outlining the schedule for the cleanup, there’s a part of me that feels taken care of, like I have someone in my corner. It’s anew feeling, and I’m still getting used to it, but it’s surprisingly good.

Reaching the bank, all thoughts of this morning’s cleanup and Ethan evaporate in an instant. I push open the glass door, cool air conditioning washing over me as I step inside, the teller greeting me. I nod in return, the kernel of worry returning bigger than before as I join the line. The numbers have been troubling me.A lot.

As I wait, my phone pings again. Another message from Ethan, this time with a silly selfie of him and Bandit, the blue heeler drinking a puppuccino in front of May’s bookshop. My smile returns briefly.

The line shifts and it’s finally my turn. After making the deposit with the teller, I ask to see the bank manager. Mr. Thompson is older, with graying hair and thick-rimmed glasses that magnify his pale blue eyes. He’s a kind man, always has been, but today I need more than kindness.

We sit down in his small office, surrounded by stacks of papers and the faint hum of the air conditioning. I fold my hands in my lap and meet his eye, getting straight to the point.

“I’m sorry to ask, but I really need an extension on our next mortgage repayment. The Tavern’s earnings have been hit hard by the oil spill, and we’re going to be struggling to make the next one.”

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