Chapter 48

WARNING: SMUT & this chapter is painfully long!!

The couch suddenly felt too small, their knees knocking together as they shifted closer. Rowan traced the curve of Lila’s collarbone with trembling fingers, her breath hitching when Lila whispered, “Can I—?” against her lips. 

She nodded before the question fully formed, already tugging at the hem of Lila’s shirt, fingertips skating over warm skin like she was memorizing the topography of her. 

“God, yes,” Rowan breathed, and then Lila’s hands were under her jersey, slow and reverent, pausing at every scar and birthmark as if cataloging them.

They stumbled toward the bedroom half-laughing, half-desperate, shedding clothes like layers of hesitation between them. Lila pressed Rowan against the doorframe, mouth trailing down her throat. “Tell me if—” 

“Don’t stop,” Rowan gasped, arching into her, nails scoring lightly down Lila’s back. 

The bed dipped under their combined weight; sheets cool against overheated skin. Rowan rolled them over, straddling Lila’s hips to stare down at her with something like wonder. “I love you,” she blurted, voice cracking, three words she’d swallowed for years spilling out between uneven breaths.

Lila’s hands stilled on Rowan’s waist, eyes glistening. “Say it again,” she whispered, thumb brushing the hollow of Rowan’s hipbone. Rowan bent down, forehead touching hers. 

“I love you,” she repeated, slower, savoring the weight of it. Lila’s exhale shook as she pulled Rowan flush against her. 

“I love you too,” murmured into the space between their mouths before kissing her deeply, all the unspoken years dissolving into this: trembling hands, sweat-slick skin, whispered encouragements tangled with gasps.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the wreckage of sheets, legs intertwined, Rowan’s head pillowed on Lila’s chest. The room smelled like salt and shared warmth, Lila’s fingers idly combing through Rowan’s hair. 

“I can’t believe we waited this long,” Rowan mumbled against her sternum, pressing a kiss there. 

Lila hummed, lips brushing her temple. “We got here,” she said simply, and Rowan knew she didn’t just mean tonight; she meant every stumble and false start that led them to this moment, skin-to-skin, hearts laid bare.

Outside, a car passed, headlights painting fleeting stripes across the ceiling. Rowan traced the silhouette of Lila’s ribs, the dip of her waist, the way her body curved like a promise kept. “Tell me something true,” she whispered. 

Lila turned her face into Rowan’s hair, breathing her in. “I’ve wanted to wake up next to you since sophomore year,” she admitted, voice rough with emotion. “Even when I didn’t let myself think it.”

Rowan’s throat tightened. She shifted just enough to meet Lila’s gaze, their noses brushing. “Say it again,” she murmured. Lila smiled, small, private, unbearably tender, before kissing her softly. 

“Every morning,” she breathed against Rowan’s lips, and it wasn’t a plea or a question, just a fact, as inevitable as dawn.

The sheets rustled as they settled deeper into each other, limbs rearranging like a language they were only now fluent in. Rowan pressed her ear to Lila’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat, slower now but no less insistent. Outside, the world kept turning, but here, in this bed, time stretched and softened at the edges, wrapping around them like another layer of skin.

Lila’s fingers traced idle circles along Rowan’s spine, her touch featherlight but deliberate, as if she were mapping the constellations of her freckles. “I used to imagine this,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep and something sweeter. “The way you’d feel. The way you’d sound.” 

Rowan shivered, her exhale warm against Lila’s sternum. “You never told me.” Lila’s laugh was quiet, almost bashful. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to.”

Rowan lifted her head, studying Lila’s face, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the faint crease between her brows that only appeared when she was trying not to cry. She kissed it softly, then the corner of her mouth, then her bottom lip, lingering there until Lila sighed into it. 

“Tell me another one,” Rowan whispered. “Another thing you imagined.”

Lila’s hands slid up to cradle Rowan’s face, thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks. “This,” she said simply. “Exactly this.” And then she was pulling Rowan down again, their mouths meeting in a kiss that tasted like confession, like a thousand swallowed words finally given voice. Rowan melted into it, into her, the weight of Lila’s body solid and sure beneath her, an anchor in the quiet dark.

The room smelled like sweat and lavender from the detergent Rowan’s mom used, the scent clinging to the sheets as they shifted. Lila’s fingers tangled in Rowan’s hair, tugging just enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips. “I imagined you like this,” Lila murmured against her jaw. “All flushed and messy, just for me.” Rowan laughed breathlessly, her hips rolling instinctively, pressing closer. “You thought about this a lot, huh?”

“Every damn day,” Lila admitted, her voice rough. Her hands roamed lower, skimming the dip of Rowan’s waist, the curve of her hip, fingers tracing the faint stretch marks there like they were something precious. Rowan shuddered, her breath hitching as Lila’s touch grew bolder, more intentional. “Tell me,” She whispered, her lips brushing Rowan’s earlobe. “Tell me what you imagined, too.”

Rowan’s pulse stuttered. She hadn’t let herself think it, not really, not in words, not in full sentences. But now, with Lila’s skin warm against hers, it spilled out like sunlight through cracked blinds. 

“Your hands,” she breathed. “Your mouth. The way you’d look at me like you are right now.” 

Lila’s exhale was shaky, her grip tightening slightly. “Yeah?” 

Rowan nodded, her forehead pressed to Lila’s. “Yeah.”

The sheets whispered as Lila rolled them over, her knee slotting between Rowan’s thighs with practiced ease. Rowan arched into her instinctively, her fingers finding purchase in Lila’s hair—soft, tangled, smelling faintly of summer grass. Lila kissed her collarbone, then lower, her teeth grazing sensitive skin. 

“Here?” she murmured against Rowan’s ribs. 

“God, yes,” Rowan gasped, her hips lifting off the mattress.

Light from the streetlamp outside painted shifting patterns across Lila’s bare shoulders as she moved slow, deliberate, her hands steady where Rowan trembled. 

“Look at me,” Lila whispered, and Rowan did, her vision blurring at the edges. Lila’s thumb brushed her cheekbone, catching the dampness there. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Rowan’s palm before guiding her hand lower. 

“Show me.”

Their fingers tangled together, hesitant at first, then surer, guided by shared breaths and whispered directions. Rowan’s voice broke on Lila’s name, her back arching, not away, but deeper, chasing the warmth of Lila’s body, the certainty of her touch. Lila kissed the sound from her lips, swallowing each gasp like she could keep them safe inside her ribs. 

Outside, the wind rustled the trees; inside, they were motionless, suspended in the weighted quiet between heartbeats.

Lila’s thumb traced circles over Rowan’s hip, slower now, lingering where the skin was softest. Rowan watched her face, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her lips parted slightly and recognized the expression. 

It was the same one Lila wore when solving a difficult equation or untangling a stubborn knot in her shoelaces: focused, tender, utterly absorbed. Rowan reached up, brushing a stray curl behind Lila’s ear. “You’re so—” she started, then swallowed when Lila’s fingers flexed against her thigh. “Beautiful,” she finished, voice fraying at the edges.

Lila’s answering smile was small, private, her cheeks flushed darker. She ducked her head, pressing her forehead to Rowan’s sternum. “Say it again,” she murmured, the words muffled against warm skin. 

Rowan laughed breathlessly, her hands sliding down to cradle Lila’s face, tilting it up. “You’re beautiful,” she repeated, slower, savoring the way Lila’s eyes darkened, the way her breath hitched. “And you’re mine.”

The admission hung between them, fragile and enormous. Lila’s fingers tightened briefly on Rowan’s waist before relaxing, her exhale shaky. “Yeah,” she agreed quietly, her thumb brushing the dip of Rowan’s navel. “I am.” The simplicity of it, the quiet certainty, made Rowan’s chest ache. 

She kissed Lila again, deep and unhurried, their bodies fitting together like they’d been designed for this: the slide of skin, the shared heat, the unspoken understanding that this was only the beginning.

Moonlight spilled through the half-open blinds, casting silver stripes across Lila’s shoulder as she shifted, rolling Rowan beneath her again. Rowan’s breath caught when Lila’s mouth traced the curve of her ear, her teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below. 

“Tell me what you want,” Lila murmured, her voice rough, not a demand, but an offering. 

Rowan swallowed hard, her fingers tightening in the sheets. “Everything,” she breathed. “All of it.”

Lila’s laugh was soft, almost disbelieving. Her hands slid lower, mapping Rowan’s hips, her waist, each touch deliberate, reverent. “Yeah?” she whispered against Rowan’s pulse point. “Even this?” Her fingers curled, pressing just there, and Rowan gasped, her back arching instinctively. 

“Christ—yes,” she managed, her voice breaking on the last syllable. Lila kissed the sound from her lips, swallowing each ragged breath as she moved slow, then slower still, drawing out every sensation until Rowan thought she might dissolve beneath her.

The room smelled like warm skin and clean sweat, the faintest hint of laundry detergent lingering in the tangled sheets. Rowan’s hands found Lila’s hips, anchoring herself as pleasure coiled tighter, a slow, sweet unraveling. Lila watched her, her expression raw and open, her pupils blown wide. 

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice thick. Rowan couldn’t look away if she tried. Their gazes held, unbroken, as the tension crested, then shattered, between them, quiet and vast as the night outside.

In the aftermath, Rowan pressed her face into Lila’s neck, breathing in the scent of her salt and something faintly floral, unmistakably hers. Lila’s fingers traced idle patterns along Rowan’s spine, her touch featherlight but deliberate. 

“Stay,” Rowan murmured against her collarbone, half a question, half a plea. Lila kissed the top of her head, her lips lingering. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. Soft, certain, like the dawn already gathering at the edges of the sky.

Rowan lifted her head just enough to meet Lila’s gaze, her eyes tracing the freckles scattered across her nose like constellations. 

She reached up, brushing a thumb over one, a silent acknowledgment of every small detail she’d cataloged without realizing. Lila caught her wrist, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. 

“You’re staring,” she whispered, her lips curving into a lazy smile. 

Rowan’s cheeks warmed. “Just making up for lost time,” she admitted, her voice raw in the quiet.

The sheets rustled as Lila shifted, her knee slotting between Rowan’s thighs, their bodies aligning like puzzle pieces. 

Rowan exhaled shakily, her fingers tangling in Lila’s hair, soft, still damp at the roots. 

“Tell me something else,” Lila murmured against her temple, her breath warm. 

Rowan hesitated, then confessed, “I used to watch you tie your shoes before practice.” 

Lila stilled, then laughed a startled, delighted sound. “That’s so specific,” she teased, nipping gently at Rowan’s earlobe. “And weirdly hot.”

Outside, the first birds began to sing, their voices tentative in the predawn hush. Rowan turned her face into Lila’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the hollow there. 

“We should sleep,” she murmured, though neither of them moved. Lila hummed noncommittally, her fingers trailing along Rowan’s ribs. 

“In a minute,” she whispered, her voice thick with something tender and unnamable. 

Rowan closed her eyes, letting the warmth of her, the weight, the scent, the steady heartbeat beneath her palm, anchor her to this moment, to this quiet, infinite now.