Page 40 of I’ll Find You

“That’s not what this is,” he says, something in his tone stilling me completely. My breath catches, but I don’t move, held there, suspended, waiting for what comes next.

“You said you don’t trust it,” he continues, his voice is lower now, more controlled, holding something back and choosing to give it to me piece by piece. “That anything this intense doesn’t last.”

I swallow hard, holding his stare, matching him word for word.

“Rose,” he says, my name sounding like a plea. Something in the way he says it keeps me present, even when everything in me wants to turn away. His intensity is all-consuming.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.

I blink. “That’s not—” I start, because that doesn’t make sense. “That day at his house, the girl running out⁠—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting me off. “I’m not talking about sex,” he says, no hesitation, no embarrassment, just a plain truth. “That part? Yeah, I’ve been with people. I’m not pretending otherwise.”

Something in my chest tightens at the confession.

“But this,” he leans in, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion, “I’ve never kissed someone and felt like I knew them before I even touched them. The act was always too intimate. Too personal. Too close.”

My breath stutters.

“I’ve never looked at someone and felt like everything just snapped into place,” he continues, his voice thicker now, threaded with something I can’t ignore. “Like I’ve been waiting for something without realizing it, and then suddenly there you were, standing on my doorstep, and I knew you were it.”

The room feels smaller somehow.

“You’re not my first,” he says, and his words, though not the ones I want to hear, are just the beginning, the prologue of our story. “But you’re the first one that mattered.”

My heart stumbles, tripping over itself at the sound of his honesty, raw and unfiltered.

The certainty in his voice doesn’t feel forced or reckless. It feels like a truth I’ve already accepted.

“You don’t get to say those things lightly,” I whisper, because it feels too big, too permanent, too dangerous to hold him to without consequences.

“I’m not,” he says simply.

My chest rises and falls unevenly, because part of me wants to believe him and part of me is terrified that I already do.

“You don’t even know if I can…” I start, my voice faltering, because I don’t know how to finish the sentence without unraveling.

Love you. Stay. Be what you think I am.

As if reading my thoughts, he continues.

“And you’re my last,” he adds, softer now, but no less certain. “That’s not something I’m guessing about, Rose. That’s something I know. Something I feel here.” He taps his chest. “And here.” His fingers brush his temple. “And here.” He thrusts his hips against my center, and I groan. The hard outline of his cock strains against the fabric of his underwear as it brushes my already sensitive clit, and I throw my head back, aching for more of whatever he’s willing to give me. His heart. His thoughts. His cock. My body reacts before I can think, before I can hold anything back, because I want every part of him.

As if knowing exactly what I need, he pulls my pants down my legs and lets them fall to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my bra and thong. He takes me in then, slowly, greedily, his gaze moving over my body as if he has all the time in the world. Wherever it lingers, my skin reacts, goosebumps rising in its wake, heating and chilling simultaneously across my flesh. I feel everything at once. Too much and not enough.

I’m already reaching for my bra, pulling it free as he slides my panties down my legs. He pauses, holding them in his hands, bringing them up to his face as he inhales deeply. His gaze flicks to the dampness there, and something in his expression darkens before he drags them into his mouth. I stand there, transfixed by the vulgarity of it and by how much it affects me. Heat floods through me, my body reacting to the way he takes in something so intimate, something that’s all mine. The mess I made, just from being this close to him, from everything he said and everything he made me feel. And I know I’ll hear those words again. Over and over. They make me feel something good, something real, meant to replace everything that came before.

He frees his cock from his briefs, and it stands hard against him, the head flushed and leaking at the tip, and I’m already aching for a taste. My panties slip from his mouth as he catches the hunger in my gaze. His eyes darken, and he swipes his finger across the tip before leaning forward, brushing it over my lips, coating them in a slick sheen. I part my lips and take it in, lapping at it greedily, taking whatever he gives me without hesitation. He leans in and kisses me, the taste of us mixing, salt and heat, as he positions himself at my entrance. I pull him closer, expecting him to thrust forward in one swift motion, but he pauses.

“I’ve been tested and I’m on birth control,” I blurt out, the words rushing out of me.

He smiles. His eyes catch the lights, softer now, a spark breaking through the intensity, and a dimple forms in his chin, so similar to his father’s that I’m surprised I’ve never noticed until now.

He lifts his hand, brushing lightly along my jaw. “I'm glad. My tests were negative, too. I've never been with anyone without protection.” His thumb brushes softly across my cheek. “I've never wanted to kiss anyone before you. It was always too intimate.” His gaze searches mine. “You're it for me, Rose.”

He confesses it, but the words don't feel like pressure. They become gravity, grounding me when everything else feels weightless. My eyes close for a moment because I don't know how to hold everything I'm feeling without the walls I've built to protect myself. It's all too much and still not enough.

“Alex,” I breathe, but there’s no argument left in it. No resistance.