Page 63 of Written in the Oceans

As she writhes, her body begins to tense under me, her thighs shaking in quivering waves. She breathes out sharply, like her breath was stolen off her lips. My stomach clenches as her desperate cries shoot a zinging shock down to my core, everything in me growing fuller, pushed to the edge, waiting to spill.

Fuck, I don’t think I can hold off any longer.

I move up her body, feathering her skin with light kisses before kissing her lips. I savor her lips, molding them to mine as our teeth graze and tongues flick against one another. When her hand reaches down between us to wrap her delicate fingers around me, moving in purposeful strokes, I shudder before letting out a suppressed groan.

“I could spend the rest of my life just kissing you,” I murmur into her skin. “Tasting you over and over again. I would never tire of this.”

She lets out a contented hum, as if plucking the decadence out of my words, all full of continued declarations for her. Her taste, her smell, her beauty, her heart.

She pulls me into a deep, hollowing kiss before looking back at me, her hand still moving over and around me, her free arm wrapped around my neck.

“I need to…” My voice scrapes against my throat. “I want to feel you. So badly.”

“Rhylan,” she whimpers, the inner corners of her brows turned up in plea. “Please. I need…” Her voice trails off.

Our hands and lips continue to move hungrily, all while her whimpers and cries grow more desperate and louder.

When I pull away to reach for a condom from my nightstand, she watches me, her body squirming against the white sheets. Her hand touches my back, caressing it lightly and letting me know that she’s here. She’s not going anywhere.

The rip of foil mingles with our heavy breaths. And when I finally position myself and move into her, we don’t look away from each other. My entire body seizes, trembling and stiffening as I work through the immense feeling of being spilled over the edge. I bury my face into her neck, focusing on evening my breaths—in and out—before I look at her again. The sounds that come off our lips harmonize between us as I rock into her, vocalizing our pleasure and bringing me so much closer to the edge. It’s almost painful as I fight every muscle in my body, struggling to not lose it right then and there.

Our eyes stay connected, holding on to each other as a way to convince ourselves that this is real. I know this is real because of the way Ellie molds to my body, the way she sinks into my arms and stays there, never wanting to leave. But it still feels like a dream. A dream that I never want to wake from but know that I eventually have to.

I reach for her hand, peeling it off the grip she has on my arm, and place it over my heart. To let her know that I would never feel this with anyone else. That the place she has taken in my life will be one that is embedded there by everything about her. Her sweet smile, her warm eyes, her broken heart. No matter what.

I keep moving, picking up the pace as her body meets mine, the perfect rhythm building between us. A sharp intake of breath draws into her when my hips tilt in a way that causes her knees to draw up to the sides of my waist, squeezing me, holding me against her.

Her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer as her fingers claw at my back. As if there’s an endless amount of space between us that she wants to erase but can’t because we will never be close enough. Our bodies will always crave more. More of each other, more ofthis. Alwaysmore.

Our bodies tilt and peak at the same time, a ripple of flesh coursing through us together.

She cries out, and I groan into her soft skin, saying every unspoken word between us.

I need you. Ineedyou. I needyou.

I slump, and she tightens her hold on me, our touch always a millimeter away from being satisfying because we will never have our fill of each other.

We will always cravemore.

Every nerve ending sparks and pulls to the surface between our bodies before the static energy slowly dissipates and we sink into each other.

I watched her succumb, completely fall apart, and it’s the most salacious shift I’ve ever seen. She’s finally let go, and so did I. We lie cradling each other, her perfect face resting on my chest with our fingers interlaced.

“Eleanor,” I repeatedly whisper into her hair, surrounded by our contented silence and sated smiles. The sound of her name coming off my lips feels like music, a tune that I can never get tired of.

TWENTY-NINE

ELLIE

Sorrow, regret,heartbreak.

Affections that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, not when they said the wordloveso ardently. He didn’t say he loved me. That wouldn’t make sense. Not when everything between us is this new and unexpected. But he used the word to describe the people that he cared about. The ones that he inevitably hurt and let go of.

But that wasn’t what this was. Nothing in this world could tear this apart and result in heartbreak. Nothing.

“Why do you call me Eleanor?” I whisper. Our breathing has leveled into a steady pace as we lie in each other’s arms at the center of his bed, tangled in the sheets with the moonlight coming in from his windows, creating a veil over us. His hands continue to run across my body, sweeping over my skin in light brushes. A smile stays on my face that seems to have taken residence and replaced the tears.

“Because it sounds beautiful,” he answers.

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