His other hand slid into Evelyn's hair, guiding her just enough to let their foreheads rest together. She didn't speak. She just exhaled, and that was enough.
Their bodies began to move again, not with urgency, but with meaning.
They kissed again, slower, deeper, and the tension that had lived in Ethan's body for months—maybe years—began to dissolve.
It wasn't about conquering or surrendering.
It was about being held and holding back.
Not from each other.
But from the world.
They undid each other quietly, piece by piece, never all at once.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ethan didn't feel like a weight to carry or a puzzle to solve.
He just felt wanted.
And the way their bodies moved now, slow, fused, seeking not climax but closeness—it told him everything he needed to hear.
He didn't have to earn this.
He didn't have to be stronger, smarter, or anything.
He just had to be here.
With them.
