Page 53 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
I squeeze my legs around his hips. “Harder.”
He groans into my neck, shifts the angle and fucks me until my thighs burn.
I come with his name breaking from my lips. His breath catches in a suspended, sacred moment—then he’s spilling inside me, chest crushed to mine, whispering ‘love you, love you, love you,’ like a vow.
We don’t move for a long time.
My nails scrape lightly along his back. His hand drifts down my side, smoothing the sheet over my hip. He presses a kiss behind my ear, then my shoulder, then my collarbone like he’s memorizing my body cell by cell.
“Good morning,” I say softly.
He nods against my skin. “I wanted you to wake up full of me.”
I press a hand to his chest. His heart pounds too fast. Mine echoes it.
There’s no easy way to say what needs to be said.
Instead, I reach for his hand, lace our fingers, and pull it over my chest until he’s cupping the swell of my breast like he always does when we’re tangled in bed and avoiding the outside world.
“I booked my flight.” I hold his gaze. “July first.”
He winces.
I don’t have to say where. We’ve gone over every piece of it already. He knows the start date, the program timeline, the salary, the apartment I’ll be sharing in Hell’s Kitchen with three other girls I haven’t met.
What we haven’t done is talk about what any of it actually means for us. Every time I try, he changes the subject.
Only now, we’re nearly out of time.
Padraig rolls off me and stares at the ceiling. Doesn’t say anything at first. His finger draw a slow, absent circle on my hip.
“I figured,” he says after a long pause.
I comb my fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to spring it on you, but…”
“I didn’t want to think it’s real.” He swallows hard. “I can’t picture you leaving. It fucking kills me.”
I know there’s nothing I can do to soothe him. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“I know.” His hand slides to my waist and tightens slightly. “Iknow.”
I shift up enough to see his face. His lashes are wet. “Babe, we have to talk about this.”
“Okay.” He jerks his head to stave off the tears. “Let’s do it.”
“Start with what you want.” I kiss the stubble on his chin.
He turns to face me. “I want you. I wantthis. I want to wake up to you every fucking morning. Iwantyou to stay.”
“Padraig.” I grip his arm. “Ineedto go, babe. I need to know I can make it on my own, outside of you. Outside of us.”
His brows draw in, not angry. More…afraid. “We’vealwaysbeen us.”
“We still are.”
“Since we were kids.” He turns his head to meet my eye.
“I’m aware.”
