Page 65 of Beautiful Ruins
He deepened the kiss in response, slow and languid, exploring without devouring.
It was the most exquisite thing I’d ever known.
Not frantic.Not desperate.Just… feeling.
I had never been kissed like that.Like I mattered.Like I was something worth taking time with.
My knees weakened.
The mug in his hand clinked against the counter and was discarded without ceremony.His other arm slid around my waist.
He broke the kiss just long enough to look at me.His eyes were darker now.
I didn’t have to speak.
He lifted me easily, one arm sliding behind my legs, the other supporting my back.I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.
The movement felt surreal and perfectly natural all at once.
He carried me down the hall without hurry.Into his room.He laid me gently on the bed, like something fragile he had no intention of breaking.He didn’t climb on top of me immediately.He stayed standing for a moment, looking down at me.
There was no assumption in his gaze.Only a question.
Are you sure?
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.But I wasn’t afraid.
I nodded.Small.Certain.
That was all he needed.
He joined me on the bed slowly.
Not with the careless confidence I had come to expect from him, but with something far more careful—almost cautious.As if every movement carried weight.As if this moment meant more than either of us had prepared for.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight, the space between us narrowing until the warmth of his body surrounded me again.
His hand lifted first.
It brushed along my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin, tracing the line of my face as though confirming I was really there.The touch lingered for a second before sliding lower—along my neck, where my pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips.
Then to my shoulder.Each touch unhurried.Thoughtful.Like he was mapping my body.
He leaned in and kissed me again.Slower this time.Deeper.
The kind of kiss that wasn’t about urgency or possession but about presence—about staying in the moment long enough to feel every breath between us.
His mouth moved against mine with measured patience, drawing the air from my lungs until I forgot what it felt like to breathe without him.
There was no rush.No frantic fumbling or nervous energy.Just heat.
It built slowly between us, wave after wave, rising through my body in ways I didn’t fully understand.My hands moved instinctively, sliding up into his hair, my fingers threading through the thick strands as I pulled him closer.
He made a sound then.Low.Rough.It vibrated against my mouth and sent a sharp shiver down my spine.
His lips left mine only to trace the edge of my jaw.The slow path of them down my throat made my breath catch.Every place he touched seemed to spark awake beneath his attention, my body responding before my mind could even catch up.And still he moved with that same deliberate reverence.Like every moment mattered.
My hands rested against his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the tension he carried even now.But beneath it was something softer.Something I hadn’t expected from him.
