Page 197 of When We Ignite
He looked so tired.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His lips were pressed into a firm line. His whole body was tense, like he was bracing himself for the inevitable.
I didn’t want the inevitable.
I leaned in and kissed him again. He parted his lips under mine, his hands gripping my waist.
“Ethan,” he tried again.
I shook my head. “Can we just pretend for a little while?” My voice was barely a whisper. I searched his eyes, desperate. “Can we pretend all this bullshit didn’t happen? Just you and me, without the article, without my dad, without—” My voice faltered. I swallowed hard. “Please. Just for a little while, okay?”
His gaze softened, something bright flickering in his eyes before he nodded.
Then he kissed me, deeply, fiercely. And I let myself sink into it, drinking him in, trying to make up for every second of lost time.
He dropped me onto the bed, stripping me down in quick, practiced movements—before kissing every inch of exposed skin like he was mapping me all over again.
We hadn’t been back in my room since that first night together, and the difference was staggering.
This wasn’t just sex.
It was desperation and devotion wrapped into each touch, each lingering press of his lips.
Sebastian took his time getting me ready, his fingers pressing into me, curling and coaxing sound after sound from my lips—plea after plea.
When he finally pushed inside, I gasped, arching into him.
He grabbed my wrists, guiding them over my head. But instead of holding them down, he laced his fingers through mine, our gazes locked as he started moving—slowly, achingly slowly.
Every thrust came with a kiss.
Every hitch of my breath met his name.
My thighs tightened around his waist, desperate to keep him there, to keep him mine.
And as each kiss grew hungrier, so did his pace. What started as languid and sweet turned into an intensity neither of us could fight.
His grip on my hands tightened, our bodies moving together in sync, chasing pleasure in a way that felt like more.
When I heard my name fall from his lips, his voice raw with pleasure, I knew—I was lost to him.
His release crashed through him, and I felt it everywhere, reverberating through my body, pulling me over the edge with him. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming as always.
Even as we tried to catch our breaths, we couldn’t stop.
Kisses traded between ragged exhales, lips brushing, hands grasping, refusing to let go.
Even though sex between us had always been about connection, this felt different. Softer. More intense in a way I had never experienced before.
If I had to describe it—this was probably making love.
Two people wrapped up in each other, holding on like we never wanted to let go.
We stayed in my bed long after our breathing evened out and our skin cooled, tangled beneath the sheets.
Sebastian’s forehead rested against mine, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over my arm. The silence was heavy, stretching between us, each passing second pressing down on him. On us. And for a fleeting moment, I considered telling the world to fuck off and asking him to get back inside me. Erase all of it. Just for a little longer.
“I made up my mind about school,” I said instead.
