Chapter 4: First Full Night

The following weekend arrived wrapped in a haze of secret messages that had kept my phone buzzing like a live wire all week. David’s texts were never explicit—careful, coded little notes that still made my pulse race and my panties dampen in the middle of class or while I was supposed to be studying. Thinking about that taste... one had read late one night. Can’t stop imagining how tight you’d feel. I’d replied with trembling thumbs, heart hammering, knowing exactly where this was headed. By Friday evening I was already aching, thighs clenching every time I shifted in the driver’s seat on my way to Katie’s house.

The familiar suburban glow welcomed me as I stepped inside. Katie was buzzing with energy, chattering about a new Netflix thriller she’d been dying to start while the scent of takeout Thai—lemongrass and coconut milk—wafted from the coffee table. String lights draped across the living room cast a warm, golden haze over everything, softening the edges of the worn couch and the framed family photos on the mantel. She pulled me into a hug, laughing about her midterms finally being over, and we dove into the food and the show like always. But every time David passed through the room—broad shoulders filling the doorway, a casual glance my way—heat licked low in my belly. His eyes held mine a beat too long, dark with the promise of what we both knew was coming.

Katie crashed unusually early, claiming the long week had wiped her out. She yawned hugely around nine, stretched, and let David scoop her up with that effortless fatherly strength. I watched from the couch as he carried her upstairs, her head lolling against his chest, and my stomach flipped with nervous excitement. The house quieted after her bedroom door clicked shut. I slipped down to the guest room, leaving the door slightly ajar like an invitation I couldn’t voice out loud. My skin felt too tight, pulse thrumming between my legs as I waited on the edge of the bed in nothing but a loose tank and soft sleep shorts.

He appeared sooner than I expected, filling the doorway in a simple black t-shirt that molded to the solid planes of his chest and those loose gray boxers riding low on his hips. The faint cedar of his cologne drifted in with him, warm and masculine, cutting through the cool basement air. His gaze locked on mine, hunger and restraint warring across his features. He stepped inside, closed the door, and crossed to me in two strides.

This time there was no hesitation. He pulled me up into his arms and kissed me—deep, slow, claiming. His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of the beer he’d had earlier with dinner, his stubble grazing my cheek in a delicious rasp. I melted against him, hands fisting in his shirt as his tongue swept in, teasing mine until I whimpered into the kiss. When we broke apart, both breathing harder, he rested his forehead against mine.