Page 52 of Timber Ridge
I meet his gaze. The weight of my decision anchors me in place. “I know,” I reply. “But I want ... this. With you.”
Kane’s eyes search mine, looking for any hint of uncertainty. Finding none, he sets our glasses on the counter and gently cups my face in his hands. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll take this moment, this night, and make it ours.”
The straightforwardness of his words, the sincerity in his voice, makes it so easy to lean in, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet in a kiss that starts slowly but grows more urgent, more insistent.
As we pull apart, breathless, Kane looks pleased. “So much for taking things slow, huh?”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up freely, mixed with newfound excitement and relief. “Well, we have endless daylight—why waste it?”
“Exactly my thoughts.” His hand finds mine, and he leads me down the hallway. Together, we walk into a night that seems boundless, ready to explore our connection without doubt or expectation.
Tonight, we simply are, and that is more than enough.
As we head to the bedroom, a mix of excitement and anxiety surges through me.
This is it. The moment when everything changes. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts—what if I'm not enough? What if this ruins everything? But his hand in mine is a steadying force, an assurance that we're in this together.
In the bedroom, we stand hesitantly, the reality of where we are and what we’re about to share sinking in. Then, with a shared breath, we move closer. Each step heightens my awareness of what’s about to happen. My pulse is in my throat, the anticipation mingling with fear. The idea of being naked in front of him, of seeing him, is both thrilling and terrifying.
“Shower first?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Together?”
I hesitate, my mind flashing to every insecurity I’ve ever had about my body. But then I see the look in his eyes—earnest, caring, filled with nothing but admiration. I nod. “It saves water.”
We walk to the bathroom, where he turns on the shower and then returns to me. His fingers brush the hem of my shirt, a silent question. I nod again, my chest pounding.
As he gently unbuttons my shirt, a fleeting moment of vulnerability tightens in my chest. This is really happening. I'm about to be completely exposed to him.
He eases the shirt from my body and discards it. The way he looks at me tells me he sees me—all of me—and he’s nowhere near disappointed. He traces the lace of my bra. It’s a moment where I silently congratulate myself for not choosing a practical one.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, not just with his lips but with his eyes, and it bolsters my courage.
Emboldened by his acceptance, my hands find their way to his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as I undo each button. With every inch of skin revealed, I take him in, the sight of him both familiar and thrillingly new. The contours of his muscles, the softness of his skin, the smattering of hair that I touch with eager fingers. His chest rises and falls more sharply with each piece of clothing that falls to the floor.
Kane’s hands shift from tracing the delicate lace to my jeans. The button gives way easily, and as he slides the zipper, his fingers graze my skin, sparking tiny fires wherever they touch.
For a brief instant, I experience a wave of shyness, almost consumed by the intense intimacy of the moment. But then I catch the look in his eyes—open, honest, admiring—and any insecurity melts away.
This is it. I’m really going through with this. It's going to change everything, and that's okay. With a shared understanding, my hands now move to his belt, unfastening it with quiet clicks that sound loud in the hushed air of the room. His jeans are next, and as I pull them down, there’s a change in the atmosphere, a profound sense of anticipation mixed with trust.
We face each other, only our underwear separating us. Slowly, with deliberate movements, we shed these final barriers. The fabric slides down our legs, pooling at our feet, leaving us bare and exposed in the most intimate way.
Kane reaches for me, his hands framing my face, pulling me into a kiss. His lips move against mine with a passion that’s controlled yet desperate, a contradiction that perfectly captures the complexity of our emotions.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, his breath mingling with mine, his body radiating heat that draws me in even more.
In response, I press closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Never been more certain,” I say. The warmth of his presence caresses my skin before his lips meet mine once more.
Together, we step into the shower, letting the warm water sluice over us. It seems to wash away any remaining hesitations. The steam rises around us, a misty veil that blurs the edges of reality, giving the moment a timeless quality.
Kane’s hands explore the lines and contours of my body. His fingers trace the path of the water, down my shoulders, over my collarbones, pausing with a soft reverence at the curve of my waist. Every touch sends shivers through me, creating an intense heat that moves through my body.
My own hands are not idle. They roam across the broad expanse of his back, tracing the muscle and sinew beneath his skin. The slick surface offers no resistance, allowing my hands to glide easily, exploring him for the first time. Our movements are slow, almost meditative, as we discover each other beneath the warm cascade.
Each caress, each touch, builds the heat between us. His fingers slide lower, tracing the curve of my hips, sending jolts of electricity through my body. The intensity in his touch mirrors my own desire.