Chapter 109: —Breathless Between

Heartbeats

Lisa's POV

When we leave the kitchen, Leo doesn't say a word. He just scoops me up—one arm under my knees, the other wrapped tightly around my back—then the world tips on its axis. I release a surprise laugh, curling into him as a reflex while I’m lifted off the floor, my hands come to rest on his chest.

“Leo!” I choke out, half-laughing.

"You initiated a conflict, with baking powder. This is the result."

"I was never informed that there would be repercussions " I protest, wrapping my arms around his neck and clasping my hands behind his head. "You ought to have checked the print.

I actually giggle like a girl—and pretend to gag–and briefly bury my face in his shoulder as he takes me in the direction of the stairs, breathing in his scent, coffee and cologne and a hint of flour dust. Not only is my heart racing and body feeling light but I can’t contain my laughter. I don’t know the last time I was this unguarded, this… free.

It feels as if gravity has released its grip, on me and I am drifting within his embrace.

Each step up the stairs is steady, deliberate. He’s breathing evenly and quietly, carrying me as if I weighed nothing, despite the climb.

“Set me down " I murmur, not truly intending it my voice barely more, than a whisper.

“No need to.”

I lift my gaze to meet his peeking out from, beneath my lashes. "You're taking pleasure in this."

"I truly am." His tone is cozy.

He opens the bedroom door.

He gently lowers me down on the bed. For a split second he doesn’t do as I do he doesn’t go with me down. He just stands there, at the foot of the bed, like he’s looking at me, like he’s trying to drink me up in one breath, like he’s engraving this moment in time.

My hair is a mess, tangled in waves and fanned out across my pillow. My cheeks are flushed and I feel the warmth coming off my skin.

He moves down carefully—intentionally—toward the edge of his shirt.

My eyelids close drawn irresistibly like a magnet.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t put on a performance or anything. He pulls the cloth away inch by inch to reveal tanned skin streaked with the vague outlines of muscles, which tighten with the movement.

Underneath his skin, muscles coil and spiral in hues of vivid, heat, power, something ancient and something that seems revived in this very instant. The shirt glides off his head. He tosses it away leisurely allowing it to fall somewhere, behind him as if it holds no significance now as if nothing else counts except this instant.

I gulp uncomfortably feeling my mouth go unexpectedly parched.

He observes my response, a smile twirling on his mouth a feeling somewhere, between satisfaction and affection shimmering in his eyes. "You're looking."

“Can you blame me?” I whisper, my breath catching.

He descended upon us his bodyweight causing the mattress to indent beneath him as he settled above with elegance. He supports himself on one arm close to me the muscles in his bicep tightening as he shifts while bending over me. The heat, from his body surrounds me instantly radiating warmth his weight the perfect sort, one that grounds me while igniting me feeling both sensations simultaneously.

"Are you still laughing at me?" he whispers, his nose grazing mine, so near that I can notice the deeper ring encircling his irises.

"Not all " I reply, lifting my hand to trace my fingers gently along his collarbone.

His lips touch mine before I can even express the thought.

It’s not the same kiss we had in the kitchen. Hungrier. Deeper. More urgent. Like the laughter has unlocked something in both of us that just can't be boxed in anymore, a dam breaking, everything we've been holding back rushing forward. His lips glide against mine with purpose, slow, yet demanding, taking and giving in equal measure, and I feel it from head to toe - in my chest, in my fingertips, in the nape of my neck.

I am holding him in my arms and my fingers are playing with his hair, the strands are still a bit wet from before, pulling him closer because he's not close enough, he'll never be close enough. He makes a muted noise against my lips that ripples a heatwave through me, a noise somewhere in the area between a groan and a sigh, and I kiss him more passionately, I catch his mood without thinking, without hesitating.

The entire universe shrinks to this moment—to us to the feel of his lips, on mine to the way our forms fit together.

His hand glided down my body, warm and assured his fingers spreading across my ribs then continuing lower to my waist. His thumb traced circles, on the fabric of my shirt the touch deliberate and steady as if he’s grasping onto a spot steadying himself reminding himself this is genuine.

“Lisa " he exhaled softly into my lips how my name resonated in his mouth it was reverence.

“Yeah " I murmur, uncertain, about what I’m agreeing to—I simply know that I crave more of this more of him more of all of it.

He pulls back enough to meet my eyes searching for as firm a stare as I can offer my pupils dilated and deep. She queries silently probing, confirming. I respond with a nod, my hands tightening gently on his shoulders my fingers pressing into his warm flesh.

That’s the invite he requires.

He makes me move up just a little so I can pull my shirt off over my head, his movements are slow and full of respect, his knuckles brush my sides as I lift the fabric. His gaze never brooks any distance from mine, holding on for any fluid praise or change or hesitation that may now afflict me.

The chill grazes my skin briefly before he appears more his hands heated, his palms gliding up my arms across my shoulders his stare deep and fierce carrying something that causes my heart to flutter.

All I’m left with is a lacy bra, my heart pounding—not from fear, but from the depth of how seen I feel, how exposed and strong all at once.

"Leo…"

He kisses me again, slower, his lips lingering, as if he's savoring each moment as if tasting something extraordinary and rare.

Every kiss is layered over another promise, a new promise layered upon the old one, until you end up creating this really intense, great, undeniable thing, and I feel like that’s what we’re doing, we’re crafting something that feels like forever from moments, from breath, from touch, and it’s really amazing.

My hands now trace those warm planes and valleys of muscles on his back. I can feel his heart beating against my chest— it’s fast and strong. He trembles just slightly under my hand, at once breathless, and the realization that I can do that to him sends a rush of exhilaration coursing through me, strength and gentleness mingling.

He shifts his stance reclining me against the pillows his form lowering with mine seldom breaking the kiss for any stretch. The bed murmurs softly beneath us, a background noise, the sheets wrapping around our legs cotton fresh, against warm flesh.

"Tell me if you want me to pause " he murmurs gently amid kisses his tone a whisper, rough tense.

I quickly shake my head drawing him closer to me with both hands my fingers sinking into his hair. "Not, for a moment.”

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest as he presses a kiss, on me deeper more intense he is putting everything into it. Still as it happens he’s exceptionally skilled at conveying meaning through touch without using any words.

Instinctively I lean in towards him my body aware of its desires before my mind can grasp them my hands gripping his shoulders as if to steady myself. All sensations are intensified. His breath rough and uneven the warmth of his skin his lips pressing against mine as though he aims to imprint me in his memory eager to capture every sound I make every reaction I have.

There’s no room for hesitation in our kisses anymore. There’s nothing, about how we kiss now.

It's intense. Overwhelming. Complete-Engulfing. Caressing and panting and the contact of skin were our efforts to express all that we experience. As if language falls short now has always fallen short.

So with our foreheads pressed against each other as we draw air again, breathing in the space between our faces, hearts pounding in time, like matched rhythm.

“Lisa " he murmurs more as though my name is a hidden truth, a blessing, a promise wrapped into three syllables.

And for now that is enough.