The morning sun slipped quietly into the room, like it knew not to be loud.
Ana blinked awake—Christian was already watching her.
Not intense.
Not possessive.
Just… present.
She reached for his hand.
No words. No kiss.
Just that soft, slow intertwining of fingers like we made it through the storm.
☕ The Stillness Before It Began
They didn't get out of bed for a while.
Talked about nothing.
Shared pieces of their childhoods.
Ana told him about the time she dyed her hair orange by accident.
Christian admitted he used to rewrite the endings of books he didn't like in a secret Word document folder labeled "Taxes."
They laughed in that tangled way people laugh when they feel safe.
💫 The Moment It Changed
He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
Ana leaned into it.
His other hand settled lightly at her waist, fingertips barely resting on her skin, like he was waiting for permission.
She didn't speak.
Just shifted closer.
That tiny, quiet movement said everything.
His lips found hers—slow, not demanding.
No heat yet.
Just warmth.
A kiss that asked, Can I still come closer?
Her answer was in her breath, her softness, the way she pulled him in without force.
They undressed each other slowly.
Like unwrapping memories.
Like peeling away doubts.
Like saying, This time, I'm not afraid to feel it.
🕊️ Not Just Bodies
His hands weren't rough this time.
There was no claiming, no conquering.
Only tracing the lines of a woman he once tried to own—
And now only wanted to know.
She whispered his name when he touched the scar on her hip.
He kissed it like a vow.
When it finally happened—
It wasn't the way it started months ago.
It wasn't control.
It wasn't performance.
It was presence.
Skin against skin.
Pulse syncing.
Breaths shared like promises they didn't need to say out loud.
Afterwards, Ana lay tangled in the sheet, his heartbeat still echoing against her spine.
He kissed her shoulder. Just once.
And whispered—
"Thank you for letting me deserve you."
To be continued…