DIY weekend
“You’re kidding, right?” Pam said into her phone, her voice tight with disbelief. She stared out of the kitchen window at the quiet suburban street, the setting sun casting long shadows on the pavement.
“Nope, sorry, babe. The guys talked me into a last-minute golf tournament tomorrow. I’ll be home late,” Steve replied, his tone a mix of apology and excitement.
Pam’s sigh was audible, even through the phone line. She had been looking forward to spending the weekend together, but it looked like it was going to be another two days of solitude. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already past six, and she hadn’t even started dinner. “Alright, I guess it’s just me and Netflix again,” she said, trying to sound more upbeat than she felt.
After they hung up, she opened the fridge to assess the sad collection of leftovers and take-out containers. She didn’t have the energy to cook anything elaborate. Instead, she poured herself a glass of white wine and grabbed a pre-made salad, tossing it onto a plate. She ate slowly, the silence in the house echoing the empty seat at the dinner table. With each bite, she felt a twinge of resentment growing inside her. She knew Steve’s job was demanding, but it had been a long week and she needed some companionship.
Dinner finished, she decided to indulge in a bubble bath, hoping it would help soothe her restlessness. The warm water enveloped her, and the scent of lavender filled the air. She sank deeper into the tub, her thoughts drifting to the days when Steve used to surprise her with weekends away and spontaneous kisses in the kitchen. Those moments felt like a distant memory now.
When the water cooled, she reluctantly climbed out of the tub, her skin pink from the heat. She wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and padded across the cold tiles to the bedroom. The blue satin nightgown lay on the bed, a stark contrast against the crumpled white sheets. She slipped it over her head, feeling the soft fabric whisper against her skin. It was a gift from Steve, bought during a rare romantic getaway. She missed those days, but she didn’t let the nostalgia weigh her down.
The house was silent except for the hum of the AC. She turned off the lights, letting the darkness envelop her. Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. The quiet was unbearable. She grabbed her phone, scrolling through social media, watching other people’s lives unfold in a blur of photos and videos. She liked a few posts, commented on some, but the artificial connection did little to ease her boredom. Her eyes grew heavy, but sleep was elusive.
Her thoughts grew more intimate, her body craving the touch she wasn’t receiving from her husband. She felt the satin of the nightgown caressing her skin as she shifted restlessly. Her hands began to wander, tracing the curves of her body, the fabric gliding over her breasts. Her breathing grew shallower as she remembered Steve’s touch, the way his calloused hands had once set her on fire.
Pam’s fingertips danced down her stomach, her mind drifting to the last time they’d made love. It had been weeks, maybe even a month. She felt the ache between her legs, a testament to her unfulfilled desires. Gently, she slid her hand under the silk, her heart racing as she touched the warm, damp folds of her sex. It had been so long since she’d felt this way.
Her movements grew more deliberate as she teased herself, exploring every inch with a patience that was almost maddening. She was in no hurry, savoring the slow build of pleasure. The room was filled with the sound of her breathing, growing heavier and more ragged as she worked herself closer to the edge. She imagined Steve’s mouth on her neck, his whispers of love in her ear.
But every time she got close, the fantasy was shattered by the cold reality of his absence. She’d stop, clenching her fists, anger coursing through her veins. Why did he always choose work and golf over her? The quiet of the house seemed to amplify her thoughts, turning them into accusations that bounced off the walls. She could almost hear the echo of his laughter with his colleagues, the clink of golf clubs, while she was stuck here, alone.
With a frustrated growl, she rolled over and reached into her nightstand, her hand brushing against the cool, plastic vibrator she’d bought months ago in a moment of desperation. It was a vibrating rabbit, a sleek toy that promised to fill the void Steve had left in their marriage. She’d only used it a handful of times, the guilt of masturbation while married always lingering. But tonight, she didn’t care. She needed something, anything, to ease the ache.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned it on, the soft buzz filling the silent room. The vibrations felt alien against her skin, a poor substitute for the real thing, but better than nothing. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander, picturing Steve’s hands on her body, his mouth kissing a trail down her neck. The rabbit’s ears danced over her clit, sending shivers down her spine.
Pam’s breasts felt heavy, begging for attention. She cupped them in her hands, her thumbs flicking over her nipples, already erect and sensitive. The satin of the nightgown clung to her skin as she arched into the sensation, her breath hitching. Her other hand worked the vibrator in and out of her, the fullness bringing a semblance of satisfaction.
But as she reached climax, it was a hollow victory. The buzz of the toy couldn’t replace the warmth of Steve’s mouth, the roughness of his beard against her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. She came with a whimper, the pleasure fleeting and unsatisfying.
With a sigh, she switched off the vibrator and let it fall beside her on the bed. The room felt colder, the silence more oppressive than ever. She rolled over onto her side, the ache between her legs still present, a constant reminder of her longing. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore it, willing sleep to come and offer her a temporary reprieve from the loneliness.
But when she woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through the curtains, the ache had transformed into a dull throb. She pulled herself out of bed and padded into the kitchen, the floor cool against her bare feet. The smell of stale wine and the remnants of last night’s sadness hung in the air. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the bitter scent a jolting wake-up call to the empty day ahead.
Sitting at the kitchen island, she pondered the endless hours stretching out before her. The house was eerily quiet, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Her eyes fell on the calendar hanging beside the fridge, each day filled with Steve’s work commitments and golf games, leaving little room for them. Her finger traced over the dates, stopping at the next weekend that was free of his plans. It felt like a lifetime away.
And then it hit her—the thing she had been begging Steve to get to and he hadn’t done yet. The leaky faucet in the bathroom had been driving her crazy for weeks. She’d mentioned it countless times, but it remained unfixed, just another chore on his ever-growing to-do list. With a newfound sense of determination, she decided she would tackle it herself. Why not? If he couldn’t be bothered to fix it, she would take the initiative.
Pam threw on a pair of well-worn jeans and a baggy t-shirt, her usual weekend attire. She didn’t bother with makeup or jewelry; the only audience she’d be facing was a row of pipe wrenches and the occasional confused look from the male customers at the hardware store. Grabbing her purse, she headed out the door, the cool morning air a slap in the face after the stuffy confines of the house. The quiet of the neighborhood was a stark contrast to the bustling weekdays, the only sounds the distant hum of lawnmowers and the occasional birdcall.
The local hardware store was a small, cluttered space, a stark contrast to the impersonal, gleaming aisles of the big box stores. The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, the smell of sawdust and metal greeting her. She felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect of taking control of something in her life, no matter how small. The shelves were lined with tools and materials she didn’t recognize, but she knew what she needed.
“Can I help you find something?” a deep voice rumbled behind her.
Pam spun around, her cheeks flushing. Mike, stood there, his muscular frame seemingly taking up too much space in the aisle. He was the kind of man who looked like he could bench press a car, with a thick beard and a chest so broad it strained the buttons of his flannel shirt. He had a friendly smile on his face, his eyes scanning her with genuine concern.
“Oh, um, yes,” she stuttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “I need a wrench to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom.”
Mike nodded, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “Sure thing, let’s head over to the plumbing section.” He led her through the maze of aisles, his booted footsteps heavy on the linoleum floor. As they walked, she couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt, the fabric stretching and pulling with every step. He was so different from Steve, who spent his weekends on the golf course instead of fixing the house.
When they reached the plumbing aisle, Mike pulled out a heavy wrench from the shelf, holding it up for her inspection. “This is what you’re looking for,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble. She took the tool, feeling the weight of it in her hand, and couldn’t help but imagine the strength it would take to wield it. Her eyes met Mike’s, and she felt a sudden jolt of attraction, a spark that had been missing from her life for far too long.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice a little shakier than she intended. Her mind kept tyring to imagine him there last night instead of her cold, plastic vibrator. Mike’s eyes held hers for a beat longer than necessary before he nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked, his voice dropping a notch lower, sending a warm shiver down her spine.
Pam couldn’t resist the urge to tease. “Maybe someone to tell me what I’m doing wrong,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
Mike’s eyes swept over her, taking in the sight of her in the oversized t-shirt and tight jeans, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, exposing the delicate line of her neck. He knew a thing or two about plumbing, sure, but what he really wanted was to know more about her. “Well, I can offer some advice,” he said, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards.
“I’d appreciate that,” she said, her voice a little breathier than she meant it to be. The way he looked at her made her feel seen, in a way Steve hadn’t in a very long time.
Mike’s eyes traveled up and down her body, his gaze lingering on the curve of her hip where it met her jeans. “So, tell me, have you ever tried to fix a leaky faucet before?” His question was casual, but his tone was anything but.
“No,” she admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m tired of waiting for someone else to do it.” The words slipped out, laden with a double meaning that wasn’t lost on either of them. The air between them grew thick with unspoken desires and frustrations.
Mike’s gaze held hers for a moment longer before he nodded, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, in that case, let me give you the quick run-down.” He stepped closer, his body heat reaching out to her. “You’ve got to shut off the water supply first. It’s usually under the sink.”
Pam leaned in slightly, her eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke, the words about shut-off valves and washers becoming a gentle white noise in her mind. His scent was faint but intoxicating, a mix of sawdust and something uniquely masculine. “Got it,” she said, her voice a little too high.
Mike’s eyes searched hers, as if looking for something beneath the surface of her question. “If you need any help, you know where to find me,” he said, his voice dropping another notch.
“Oh, you do house calls?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.
Mike chuckled, a warm, deep sound that sent goosebumps skittering across her skin. “Well, I don’t usually, but for someone as obviously in need of assistance as you are…” He let the sentence hang, his eyes holding hers with a promise she found it hard to ignore. “I’m actually just helping out here on weekends,” he continued, placing the wrench back on the shelf with a gentle thud. “But if you really need help, I could stop by after we close.”
Pam felt a thrill at his suggestion, a thrill that was quickly followed by a jolt of reality. “What about the store?” she asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.
Mike leaned against the shelf, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “We usually close up around lunchtime,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I was just about to lock the door when you came in.”
Pam fidgeted, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she remembered that Steve would be gone all weekend, golfing with his buddies again. The thought of being alone seemed dreadful. “That sounds, ummm,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. The silence stretched between them, filled with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the distant sound of a hammer tapping in the background.
The implication was clear. He was offering more than just plumbing advice. The realization sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. “That sounds great,” she murmured, her voice a little too eager. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, scribbling her address on it. She held it out to him, her hand shaking just a little. “Here,” she said, trying to play it cool. “If you’re free after you close up.”
With a final nod, she turned and made her way to the door, her mind racing. She couldn’t believe she’d just invited a man she barely knew into her house. But the alternative was another lonely weekend with only her thoughts for company. She stepped outside, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the hardware store. The bell jingled behind her, a reminder of the decision she’d just made.
Pam kept looking over her shoulder as she walked to her car, her eyes searching for Mike’s form among the shelves. She found him watching her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and hastily looked away, fumbling with her keys. She managed to get into the car and start the engine, her heart hammering in her chest. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she couldn’t help but glance back at the storefront, expecting him to be there, watching her go.
The drive home felt like an eternity, her thoughts racing faster than the engine. What had she done? Inviting a man she barely knew to her house was crazy, especially while Steve was away. But the ache between her legs and the emptiness in her heart were too powerful to ignore. She needed something to fill the void, and Mike offered a tantalizing escape from her mundane existence.
Pulling into the driveway, she took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Walking inside, she immediately saw her reflection in the hallway mirror and cringed at her outfit. The baggy t-shirt and worn jeans screamed ‘desperation’. She needed to change, to put on something that made her feel desirable again. She turned toward the bedroom with intention, climbing the stairs with a newfound energy.
In her room, she rummaged through her closet, tossing garments aside until she found a red dress that Steve had bought her last year for their anniversary. It hugged her in all the right places and made her feel like a goddess. She slipped it on, the fabric clinging to her curves as if it had been made just for this moment. The zipper glided up her back with a soft whisper as she heard the doorbell. She took one last look in the mirror. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
“You’re really going to do this, Pam,” she murmured to her reflection, the words both a challenge and a question. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the fabric of the dress tighten around her chest. Then, with a decisive nod, she turned away from the mirror and headed for the door, her heart thundering in her ears.
When she opened it, Mike was standing there, his toolbox in hand and a grin on his face that was both innocent and knowing. The sun cast shadows across his bearded jaw, highlighting the crinkles around his eyes. He looked at her, and his smile grew, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through her.
Pam took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing. “Yeah, come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let him enter. She led him through the quiet house, the click of his work boots on the hardwood floor echoing in her ears. She felt his eyes on her as she moved, and she couldn’t help but sway her hips a little more than usual, enjoying the feeling of being desired again.
They reached the bathroom, and she stepped aside to let him get to work. She watched as he knelt beside the sink, his muscles flexing as he removed the faucet. The sight of him, so capable and focused, made her feel a little dizzy. She leaned against the doorframe, her bar legs just a few feet from his broad back.
All she could think about was taking that flannel shirt off him. She imagined the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, the way the fabric would cling to his broad shoulders as she pulled it over his head. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep her thoughts in check.
Mike’s voice brought her back to reality. “You okay?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Pam blinked, realizing she’d been staring at his broad back for who knows how long. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly. “Just lost in thought.”
Mike straightened up, turning to face her. His eyes traveled from her face to her neck, lingering on the spot where her pulse was beating a wild tattoo. “Can I help you with anything else?” he asked, his voice a velvet caress that made her knees feel a little wobbly.
Pam took a step back, her hand sliding down her side to rest on the doorframe. “Actually, yes,” she said, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked. “There’s one more thing in here that could use your attention.” She watched as his gaze dropped to her hips, then back up to her eyes, the question in his gaze unspoken but clear.
Turning her back to him, she tugged gently at the zipper of her dress, feeling the fabric tighten against her skin. She paused, letting the anticipation build. “Could you help me with this?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. She heard the soft thud of the toolbox as he set it aside, the sound echoing in the small space.
The air grew thick with tension as Mike stepped closer, his strong hand resting on her shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeped into her, sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel his breath against her neck as he leaned in, his other hand reaching for the zipper. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he took over the task, the zipper gliding down smoothly, the fabric parting beneath his hands.
Pam turned back to face him, their bodies now mere inches apart. His eyes were dark with desire, the kind of desire she hadn’t seen in a man’s eyes in a very long time. She felt a thrill of excitement run through her, a heady mix of fear and anticipation. Slowly, coyly, she let her hands slide down her arms, the dress slipping off her shoulders with the grace of a leaf falling from a tree. It hovered for a moment, caught on the curve of her breasts, before it fell away, pooling at her feet in a puddle of red satin.
The cool air of the room kissed her skin, making her nipples tighten against the lacy cups of her bra. Mike’s gaze followed the descent of the dress, his eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts before traveling down her body, taking in the matching panties that clung to her hips. His breath was warm on her cheek as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the lace with a tenderness that made her knees wobble.
“Will you take me to the bed?” she asked, her voice a seductive purr.
Mike’s eyes darkened, his grip on her hips tightening as he lifted her with surprising ease. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breathing shallow and erratic as he stepped over the puddle of fabric and carried her to the bedroom.
Letting her legs down she stands by the bed. Her legs wobbled a bit as she found her footing, but she managed to stay upright. With trembling hands, she reached for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, she undid them, her fingertips brushing against the warm, firm skin beneath. His chest was a landscape of muscle and scars, a testament to a life of hard work. She traced the lines with the tip of her finger, feeling the coarse hair that covered his chest tickling her skin.
She worked her way down, her palms skimming over the planes of his abs until she reached his belt. She felt his eyes on her, watching every move she made, and it only made her more eager to explore him. With a flick of her wrist, she unbuckled the belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a quiet hiss. His pants hung open, the fabric tented with his growing arousal.
Mike tipped his boots off as he shed the shirt and tossed it aside. He looked back down into Pam’s eyes, her fingers trembled as she gripped the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion. His cock sprang free, and she couldn’t help but gasp. It was the only one she had seen in her life besides Steve’s, and it was different—thicker, longer, and somehow more potent. The sight of it made her feel both nervous and incredibly excited.
Mike stepped out of his pants. He reached for her, his hand cupping the back of her head, guiding her down. She took a deep breath, her heart racing as she leaned in. Her first kiss was tentative, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock, but she quickly grew bolder. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head as she tasted the faint saltiness of his skin.
Pam had always enjoyed giving head, the way it made him squirm, the power it gave her. With Steve, it had become routine, something to get over with so they could move on to the main event. But with Mike, it was different. She took her time, savoring every inch of him, her mouth moving with purpose. She could feel his cock growing harder, his breathing quickening, as she worked her way down his shaft. She took him deep, feeling the muscles in her throat stretch and contract around him, her eyes watering with the effort.
But she didn’t stop. She looked up, watching his face, his eyes latched onto her with an intensity that made her heart race even faster. His jaw was clenched, his cheeks flushed, and she could see the vein pulsing in his neck. His gaze was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and she knew she was giving him something he hadn’t had in a long time. She took him out of her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, her hand stroking him in a lazy rhythm that had him groaning.
And then, without warning, he reached down and grabbed her by the upper arms, his grip firm but not painful. He swung her around with surprising strength, and before she could even gasp in surprise, she found herself thrown back onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath her. She let out a squeal, half from shock and half from excitement. She stared up at him, her chest heaving, her heart racing in anticipation of what would come next.
Mike leaned over her, his eyes smoldering with desire. With a deft move, his fingers slipped under the thin edge of her lacy panties, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of her hips. “We’re not here to work on me,” he said, his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through her body. “We’re here to take care of what you need.” His words were like a shot of adrenaline, fueling the fire that was already burning within her.
Her eyes locked onto his, she leaned back, arching her spine, lifting her hips in silent invitation. The fabric of her underwear was a flimsy barrier between them, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. With one swift movement, he tore them away, the sound of the tearing fabric echoing through the room. She gasped, the suddenness of his action sending a jolt of arousal through her.
Mike held her torn panties in his hand for a moment, the scent of her desire wafting up to his nose. His gaze was intense, his eyes never leaving hers as he took in the sight of her exposed to him. He tossed the ruined underwear aside, his eyes traveling up her body as she reached behind her back to unhook her bra. The clasp released with a soft click, and she let the straps slide down her arms, the cups falling away to reveal her breasts, full and heavy with need.
Leaning back against the pillows, she watched as Mike took a deep, ragged breath, his chest rising and falling with his effort to maintain control. She knew she looked good, and the way his eyes devoured her only confirmed it. Her nipples peaked, begging for his touch, but he remained where he was, kneeling between her thighs. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, a delicious ache that made her whimper.
Without a word, he leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. His tongue was rough and eager, flicking against her clit with a fervor that made her hips buck upwards. She cried out. His mouth was a maelstrom of sensation, his tongue sliding in and out of her, exploring every crevice with a hunger that was almost overwhelming.
Pam’s hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them, playing with her nipples, rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers. She closed her eyes, letting out a low moan as she felt her climax building, a wave of heat that started in her toes and rushed through her body. “Oh God, yes,” she whispered, the words slipping out of her mouth as if pulled by a string. “This is what I wanted last night.”
Mike looked up at the sound of her voice, a questioning look crossing his face. She sat up slightly, her eyes meeting his, a mix of desire and desperation in them. Speaking louder, she repeated, “Please, take me hard.” The words hung in the air, heavy with need and want.
With a primal growl, Mike shifted his position, moving up the bed until he hovered over her, his muscular body framing hers. He braced one hand beside her head, his other arm reaching back to grab her inside thigh, his grip firm and commanding. He pushed her leg up and out, opening her up to him, making her feel vulnerable and exposed in the best way possible.
Staring into her eyes, he didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty that crossed her face. But it was quickly replaced with a fiery need that matched his own. “You asked for it,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver through her. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock teasing her wet folds.
Mike took his time, letting her feel every inch of him as he pushed into her. The sensation was overwhelming, filling her in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. He was so much bigger than Steve, stretching her in a deliciously uncomfortable way that had her reaching for the bed sheets. She let out a keening cry, her body arching up to meet him, urging him deeper.
With a powerful thrust, he seated himself fully inside her, his hips grinding against hers. The sound of their bodies slapping together was loud in the quiet room, a raw, primal noise that seemed to echo off the walls. He began to move, building a deliberate rhythm, his eyes never looking away. She could see the hunger in them, the need that mirrored her own.
Pam’s breath came in gasps as she took all of him, her body adjusting to his size. It had been so long since she’d felt this full, this alive. Steve had never been rough with her, had never taken her like this. But with Mike, it was different. He didn’t hold back, didn’t treat her like she was made of glass. He took her like she was something to be claimed, something to be conquered. And she loved every second of it.
Her arms flung around his neck as she held on for dear life. Her head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure overwhelmed her. “Yes,” she murmured, the word slipping out of her mouth like a secret. “Fuck me, Mike. Fuck me like you mean it.”
He did. With each thrust, he claimed her, his movements powerful and unyielding. The headboard hit the wall in a steady rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of her heart. She could feel her climax building, a crescendo of sensation that grew louder with each stroke.
“Oh fuck yes,” she screamed, the words tearing from her chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her. Her heels dug into his lower back, urging him on, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held on tight.
Mike’s pace quickened, his hips driving into hers with an urgency that spoke of a man on the edge. His muscles tensed, his movements grew jerky and desperate as he approached his climax. She could feel him thicken inside her, the head of his cock swelling with the promise of release.
And then it hit, a roar of pleasure that seemed to rip through him. He thrust deep, burying himself to the hilt with a grunt, his cum spurting into her in hot, thick spurts. The feeling was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—raw, primal, and utterly consuming. Her own climax crashed over her in waves, her body spasming around him as she screamed out her pleasure.
Her legs tightened around him, her heels digging into his back, holding him inside her as her orgasm washed over her. She could feel every pulse of his cock, every twitch of his muscles, every beat of his heart as he filled her. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to last an eternity.
As the waves of ecstasy began to recede, Mike’s movements slowed, his breathing as ragged as hers. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, his arms wrapping around her in a bear hug that was surprisingly gentle. His chest was a wall of warmth against her, his heart thundering in her ear. It felt like a safe harbor, a place she hadn’t known she needed but was suddenly desperate to never leave.
