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I cling to Jacob as he carries me into my old room, our slow kisses pairing with the sound of our footsteps. He sets me down gently on his bed and pulls away for a moment to look at me.
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to tell you how I feel," he whispers, brushing away a stray strand of hair from my face.
"I think I might have an idea," I reply with a smirk, feeling bold under his intense gaze.
He smiles before leaning in to kiss me again, and everything else just fades away.
He trails kisses down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hands roam over my body, igniting every nerve and making my heart race.
In a haze of sensation, I find myself backing into my childhood bedroom—this sanctuary of my youth, where Nonna's laughter still echoes from the walls and the faint aroma of her homemade ravioli lingers. Jacob's presence fills the room, making it feel smaller, and more intimate, as though even the furniture remembers him from the past.
His hands deftly work the buttons of my blouse, each one that gives way causing my galloping emotions to swell within me. My breath catches as I feel the edge of the bed against the back of my legs. It’s the same bed where I used to dream about far-off places and futures so grand. But they now pale in comparison to this very moment.
Jacob's eyes meet mine, a glint of clever interest blending into something deeper, almost reverent. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Nervous? Only that I won't be able to view my IKEA childhood furniture the same way again.”
He grins, banishing any lingering doubt.
We collapse together onto the bed, an unspoken agreement to let history and memory merge with the present.
Our kisses deepen, becoming more frantic, more desperate.
The room, filled with relics of my innocence—stuffed animals, old school trophies—watches silently as we create something unmistakably new and adult.
I laugh softly, his hands sparking shivers across my skin. "If Nonna knew what we were doing here..."
"She’d probably insist we get married the next morning," he chuckles. But his mirth turns to a low growl as he presses closer, whispering against my lips. "But that won't stop me."
The air seems thicker, charged.
My world condenses into the sensation of Jacob.
His heartbeat. His warmth. His every touch.
Here, in this room laden with my past, we carve out a space for the future, one kiss, one caress at a time.
The material of my dress slides sensually over my skin as Jacob starts to peel it away, but he halts mid-motion, a flicker of realization crossing his face.
"Hold up," he mutters, glancing down at the grimy evidence of tonight's game still clinging to him. Dirt streaks his arms, dried sweat marks his shirt, and I can only imagine the state of his hair. "I can't do this to your dress—or your bed."
I'm a bit breathless as I respond. "Got a better idea?"
"How about we relocate to a slightly more washable location?"
Before I can answer, he's already hoisting me into his arms, his grip strong yet careful, as if I'm something precious.
He carries me effortlessly, navigating through the jumbled maze of childhood nostalgia scattered across my floor, and nudges open the door to the bathroom with his foot. The lights flick on, revealing a modest space that suddenly seems charged with potential.
Jacob grins down at me, his eyes promising mischief. "Now, where were we?"
He lets me down gently, and for a moment, I wobble, trying to regain my balance. He doesn’t waste a second. With that same determined look, he twists the shower knob. Water gushes out, quickly steaming up the small bathroom. I can't help but let out a giggle as he turns back to me, already peeling off the remnants of my dress with deliberate slowness, as if unwrapping a long-anticipated gift.
"Hold still," he murmurs, and I do, although my heart races. My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out the noise of the shower. His fingers work skillfully, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The dress falls away, and I'm left standing there, utterly exposed and strangely elated.
Jacob's eyes roam over me, dark with something primal, yet soft with something deeper.
"Your turn," I say, reaching for his shirt.
