Page 67 of Stick Break
“Trust is hard for you too, isn’t it,” I whisper.
He runs his hand through his wet hair, the motion rough, like he's trying to scrub the truth out of himself. “Yeah.” And somehow, I feel it. His pain. Just like I think he feels mine. The invisible thread between us tugs tighter.
“I’m on the pill,” I say, voice soft but sure.
He blinks. Once. Twice. “Wait. You mean… we could’ve done this last night?”
That earns a small, laugh from me, even as something tender unfurls in my chest. “Do you usually have sex without a condom?”
“Never. You?”
“I was in a long-term relationship.”
He nods. And something shifts in his expression. The reminder of someone else touching me clearly doesn’t sit well. And I get it. I don’t want to picture anyone before me, either. Not when this feels like more than just sex. Like something we're building, even if we know it won’t last.
“I’m not saying that to make it weird,” I say, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. His muscles twitch beneath my touch. “I’m saying it because… I want to feel you. All of you.”
His eyes meet mine, the intensity in them nearly knocking the air from my lungs. “I want that too.”
“Without a condom.”
Rip draws in a ragged breath and drags his hand through his hair again. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm that’s all nerves and desire. His eyes darken with heat and something else I can’t quite name.
“Are you sure, Char?” he asks, voice rough, shaky. “You trust…”
His words fall off as I run my hand along his arm, slow and deliberate, feeling every inch of him. But I know what he’s asking. He cups my cheek with one hand, eyes searching mine for doubt.
“I never thought I’d get on a boat again,” I whisper, the words thick with meaning. A confession wrapped in metaphor. And he knows it. His hand tightens on my face, thumb brushing my cheek.
“Charley…” he murmurs, voice raw. “I really like you.”
I smile, my heart blooming. “I really like you too, Rip.”
In return, I don’t ask if he trusts me. He doesn’t need to say it. His body says it for him—he's staying. He’s moving between my legs, without the barrier. We’re both doing something completely uncharacteristic, and there’s not a man on earth I’d rather do it with than Ripley Hart.
It’s reckless, yes. But it’s also honest. Real.
We both know this can’t last, but right now, I want to wring everything out of this… everything but his heart. Because that belongs to another. But for now, I want to lose myself in him.
I want him to lose himself in me.
That can be our gift to each other—our secret indulgence while the real world waits outside, oblivious.
I toss the condom aside.
He blinks, surprised. “This is crazy, right?”
“If you need to hear me say it,” I murmur, lips tilting up, “Then yes. But so was me running away and climbing in through your kitchen window.”
That makes his grin flash, but it disappears quickly as he shifts forward, the tip of him pressing against me. He grunts, eyes fluttering closed. “Actually, your body seems to think this is the most fabulous of fabulous ideas in the entire universe.”
I gasp, clenching around the first inch of him. “My body would be right.”
And with that, he sinks into me.
He fills me beautifully and every part of me stretches around him like he was made to fit. Like my body knew him before I did. He holds himself up, giving me all of him without crushing me, and I wrap my arms around his back, drinking in the flex of muscle, the way he moves just for me.
“So good, Rip,” I breathe, my voice wrecked and raw.
