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Kyle's hands run up and down my back as I rest my head on his shoulder. His fingers slow, drag lazily along my spine, soothe my racing heart.
"I just couldn't believe those words came from your mouth," he admits as he nudges my forehead with his chin. "I never thought they would."
I lift my head, meet his dark eyes, feel him still inside me, hard and throbbing.
"I do, though. I really do love you, Kyle."
The words feel so right falling from my mouth. He's found his way into my heart, almost as if he belonged there all long. Maybe he's always been in there, hidden beneath terse words and sly glances and stolen moments behind a camera lens. Years and years of waiting and wishing and wondering. Years of me being distracted by someone else. I hate that I wasted those years.
Quietly, unassumingly, Kyle stole my heart. And now that he's in there, I don't want to let him go.
Not now.
Not ever.
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, his long, charcoal lashes fanning out over tanned skin. My heart throbs in my chest, realizing he loves me.
He's mine.
I rock my hips against his, watch as his face contorts with bliss and pleasure and ecstasy. His head falls back against the headboard. "Mmm, just like that," he encourages me.
I do it again as he mutters, "I love you." My arms loop around his neck and his fingers dig into my hips as I slowly figure out a rhythm that feels good, up and down.
"I love you," he says again, a warm breath against my lips.
He kisses me for a long time, until my lungs might cave in from lack of oxygen, my head woozy, our chests sticking together with sweat and my thighs aching.
He whispers, "I love you," one more time and my heart is bursts at its seams, fireworks exploding and detonating beneath my skin and bones and blood and organs.
A single tear slips down my cheek.
Not from sadness or heartache or pain.
No, nothing like that.
From pure, unadulterated happiness.
—
Sunlight trickles into the room, rousing me from a deep sleep. I keep my eyes closed, extend my arm out, try feeling around for Kyle.
But he's not there.
I flip onto my back, rub my groggy eyes with the heels of my palms. Slowly, I open my eyelids, adjust to the blinding amber light.
Kyle's bedroom doesn't look anything like his room back home. The walls are white and bare, almost as if he never really moved into it. An oak-colored dresser stands in one corner, two bedside tables on either side of the matching oak bed frame and there's a tall silver lamp on the opposite side of the room beside a large window.
I sit up and clutch the white sheet to my bare chest. Flashbacks, fragments from last night, play through my mind as I force myself to wake up. Golden skin all over mine. Deep brown eyes. Plush, swollen lips mapping every inch of my body. Fingertips tracing circles on my skin. Hushed I love yous. The intensity of his gaze. His arms around me as I drifted off to a sound sleep.
My chest swells with elation.
I drop the sheet, stretch my arms over my head and yawn.
When I stand from the bed, I grab Kyle's white dress shirt off the floor and slip into it. I shamelessly inhale the stiff material. It smells just like him. Warm and clean and minty.
I run my fingers through my hair, loosen the tangles and knots before I venture out of the room in search of him.
Kyle's room and adjacent bathroom sit at one end of the hallway and his roommate's is at the other end. The walls are white, just like his bedroom. No pictures. No decorations.
