Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 21

21

Hannah

The shower is a revelation.

Johan pins me against the tile wall, water steaming and sluicing down his back and over the swell of his ass, which I indulge myself in squeezing, making him growl playfully. We kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until my lips are swollen and my breath is coming short. But I can't seem to get enough.

He lathers a loofah with soap and washes my body, his hands gentle and reverent as they glide over me. When it's my turn, I take my time, washing his broad shoulders, down his chest and stomach, and when Johan hisses and jerks away, laughing, I know I’ve hit a ticklish spot.

“Don’t,” he warns, but I can't help but reach for it again, and Johan growls, yanking me flush against him, his cock digging into my hip.

We stumble from the shower, and Johan wraps me in a towel, kissing me as he rubs another over my hair. Somehow, we avoid mauling each other like two animals, but Johan seems intent on keeping his promise. When we come together for the first time, it's going to be special. It won’t be rushed or in a moment of impulsive passion. It’s going to be slow, intense, and intentional.

“Let's go out,” he says, wrapping a towel around himself. “Get you some real food. If we don't get out of this suite, then I’m going to do something I regret.” He pauses. “Well, not regret, exactly. Something that goes against the careful plans I’m trying to craft here.”

“Plans? Careful plans?” I laugh, toweling my hair. “Care to elaborate?”

“No, not particularly.” Johan grins. “And you’re going to need the energy that only real food can provide. I want everything to be perfect.”

“It already is,” I tell him, standing on my toes and kissing the corner of his jaw. “Every second is. Trust me.”

“You are too good for me, Hannah.” His serious voice makes the smallest pit open in my stomach, but I refuse to let that doubt creep in over us—not today.

“Impossible,” I tell him, emphasizing every syllable. “That's completely impossible.”

I’m not sure if he believes me or not, but I’m willing to let it slide for now.

Johan dresses in slacks and a dark navy-blue sweater that makes his eyes pop, and I go with a long, warm dress. It features a high turtleneck to keep my neck warm against the cool November breeze and long sleeves that taper slightly at the wrists, providing both elegance and comfort. The fitted waist accentuates my curves, while the skirt flares out just enough to allow for easy movement, falling to just above my knees. We keep the conversation light and easy as we get ready, and I can't help but notice just how easy this all feels. How right. Everything just fits into place with him.

The fluffy cloud I’m floating on dissipates somewhat when I finally check my messages and see that my texts to Astrid have still gone unanswered. While Johan gathers his things, I bite my lip, finger hovering over her contact. I’m thinking about calling her again. But the idea of it seems wildly inappropriate in a way. How the hell can I call her when the man she has feelings for had his face between my legs only an hour ago? I can't do it. It feels wrong. So I slide the phone into my small bag, turning to Johan when he quietly says my name.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

Johan offers me his hand. “Let's go.”

Breakfast is a feast. Johan takes me to a quiet cafe that brings us a full spread within minutes of sitting down—fresh fruit, pastries, croissants, eggs, and sausage. We take our time with coffee and mimosas, lingering over the food and the view, and it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist. It’s just him and me, the sunlight, and the ocean. When he isn’t paying attention, I watch him eat, fascinated by the smallest movements he makes––the way his hand flexes when he cuts something, the drop of juice on his bottom lip after he takes a drink, and the hum of satisfaction as he takes a bite of a particularly juicy strawberry. How can these mundane things make butterflies take flight in my stomach so effortlessly?

“So what do you do with yourself when you aren't elbow-deep in research or teaching?” I ask, swirling my mimosa as I speak, the liquid making a lazy vortex in the champagne flute. “Are you still into horse stuff?”

“Oh, yes.” Johan swallows the bite of toast he was chewing and nods, grinning. “Still am. It’s a bit harder to indulge in that as much as I'd like, though. But my dad still tends to the horses every day like he used to when I was home, and this used to be our way of bonding together.”

“That's really sweet.” I smile, and Johan shrugs. There's a wistful look on his handsome face, and I want to smooth the line between his eyebrows with my thumb. “I can’t really commiserate, though. It was always Elise’s thing.”

“Do you ride?”

I shake my head at his question before sipping my coffee.

“I could teach you.”

I almost laugh until I realize he’s serious, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Really. I know you aren’t into dressage, but I think I can change your mind about how fun horse riding can be.”

“Oh, um….” The memory of the scent of Oma's stables—always clean but still smelling of horse—and the uncertain way the gelding had felt beneath me when my mother forced me to learn to ride makes me crinkle my nose. “That's sweet. But it isn't for me, I don't think.”

“You enjoyed the horse show when we went years ago.”

“You mean one of the biggest equestrian events in Europe?” I exhale a small laugh, taking a sip of my mimosa. “I'd have to be dead not to find that interesting. I think I’m meant to be a spectator and nothing more.” Remembering our time together at the event makes my chest feel warm with the fondness of the memory and a soft smile blooms over my face. “If I’m being honest, Johan, my enjoyment of that show was mostly because of you, not the horses.”

He looks surprised, and his expression is flooded with affection as he reaches across the table to take my hand, thumb sweeping over my knuckles. “Well, then. We'll have to go again sometime, won’t we? Humor me—a tiny bit of riding and then plenty of spectating. The best of both worlds.”

“That sounds fun.” And it does. But a small part of me can't help but be anxious at the idea of Johan and I spending the day together anywhere close to Cambridge, and especially anywhere near Astrid or Conrad. It’s a thought that makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I push it away, squeezing his hand in mine. “But today is about today, isn't it?”

Johan leans over the food-laden table, kissing me softly. His kiss is so sweet, gentle, and pure that it almost brings tears to my eyes. “Yes,” he tells me. “Today is just for us.”

After breakfast, we walk along the lake's coastline for nearly an hour. The wind coming off the water is chilly, even if the sun is bright, and I’m thankful for the coat I’m wearing as Johan and I stroll lazily.

He takes his hand in mine as we walk, twining our fingers together, rewarding me with the connection I’ve never been able to have but always craved from him. This feels so different from how distant we have to be at Cambridge and how careful we have to be when we're around others. Here, in Portmeirion, Johan is mine. The thought is indulgent.

My stomach is full, and my heart is overflowing with happiness.

“Look at the birds,” Johan says softly, and I look up, realizing we've stopped walking.

There's a pair of swans gliding along the glassy surface of the water. They're beautiful and as graceful as a duo of dancers. I feel Johan shift behind me, his chest pressed to my back, and his arm snakes around me.

“Did you know that swans mate for life?” he rumbles into my ear. “When they choose a partner, it's for good. No one can break that bond.”

My heart does an odd little leap at his words, and I swallow, watching the swans. “They're lovely.”

“Mmhmm.” Johan's nose is buried in my hair. “They aren't the only ones,” he says, “So do eagles, geese, owls, some species of monkeys, and even albatrosses. Did you know that?”

I’m hearing his words, but the hard line of his body at my back has me distracted. “Albatrosses too?”

“Yes. When they pair, it's for life. Even if they lose their mate, they never seek another.” Johan's hand splays over my stomach, and he kisses the top of my shoulder, over the thin fabric of my cardigan and the strap of my dress. “It’s interesting, isn't it? To know some species can have bonds so powerful?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” I admit. My breath catches when his grip on me tightens.

“Me neither. But today…it’s on my mind.” Johan kisses me again, guiding me, turning me to face him, and cradling my face in his palms. “Hannah, look at me.”

I raise my eyes to meet his, and there's a furrow between his brows. Something inside of me cracks open, and suddenly, I’m afraid. We’re standing on the shore, but I feel like, instead of a lake stretching out in front of us, it’s an abyss that I’m not ready to jump into. This sweet, sexy, sometimes explosive energy between Johan and me is something I can’t get enough of, but taking a step beyond that into something so much more serious is terrifying.

As usual, he senses the change in me at once. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “Why are you asking?”

He shakes his head slowly, lowering his mouth to mine. “Nothing at all. Just kiss me.”

So I do. Johan's kiss is soft and sweet. His tongue presses lightly against the seam of my lips, and I grant him entrance, melting against him, my arms going around his neck. His hands tangle in my hair, cup the sides of my throat, and then slide down my shoulders. When he pulls away, Johan smiles, brushing his thumb against my swollen lower lip.

“Hannah, darling,” he begins. “I––” He's interrupted by a ringing phone, and Johan's sigh is resigned when he quickly glances at the screen. “It’s one of my research partners. Give me just a moment.”

While my body is disappointed that our interlude ended so quickly, my mind is a little bit relieved. All this talk about mating for life, only ever loving one being for an entire lifetime...it's really heavy, considering how new this thing between us is. Well, the feelings, the desires, aren't exactly new. We've both been haunted by them for years. But the ability and intention to act on those feelings are new.

I wander along the shoreline, watching as the swans dip their heads into the water, fishing for food. My cheeks are cold, and my hands are stuffed into the pockets of my cardigan, but Johan is still on the phone.

Suddenly, I feel like someone is watching me. It’s a chill that goes down my spine, and I turn, glancing around. There's no one behind me, and when I turn back, looking towards where Johan is, he’s invested in his casual conversation, hands moving animatedly. I can hear him pacing back and forth a little ways away, his voice an indistinct murmur. There's nothing wrong with him, apparently. So, what is giving me this uneasy feeling?

On a whim, I pull my phone out, and a jolt of adrenaline hits me when I see that Astrid has finally responded. It simply says: I’m fine. Talk to you later.

Shooting a quick glance at Johan, I type out a quick reply. Are you sure?

Hitting send, I wait to see if the message is delivered before putting my phone away. Strangely enough, the status bar at the top of the message stalls eighty percent of the way through, and then a red x appears beside my response. A "MESSAGE FAILED" notice pops up, and before I can try to resend the message, Johan is pocketing his own phone and heading back in my direction. I shouldn't feel guilty for texting Astrid, but I don't want that subject to cloud my time with Johan, so I exit the text and slide my phone back into my bag.

“Important call?” I ask him, hoping he can't hear the nerves in my voice.

“Yes and no,” he says with a lopsided grin, one side of his mouth curling up in amusement. “We've got a new artifact that, under normal circumstances, I’d be itching to get my hands on.”

Disappointment pulls at my thoughts. “Oh...do you want to head back early?”

“Absolutely not,” Johan assures me, kissing my forehead. “This is far more important than old relics and dusty curiosities.”

I exhale in amusement. “You say that like you don’t love every bit of it.”

“Well, perhaps you’re right,” he agrees and then takes me in his arms, pressing his lips to mine. I can feel Johan’s smile against my skin, and it makes my heart ache with its happiness. “But you are more important…and more entertaining, by far. The artifact will be there when I return.”

“Good.” I kiss him once more, walking two of my fingers up the sweater-covered expanse of his chest. What’s wrong with me? I’m never this…flirty. Bubbly, even. I guess he brings it out in me. “Because I have plans for you.”

“Is that so?” Johan’s eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “Do tell.”

“Well….” My cheeks are hot, and it has nothing to do with the fact that the sun is beginning to beat down on us, defeating the chilly wind. “I was thinking that maybe we could go back to the cottage and pick up where we left off in the shower.”

“Tempting, but I thought we were saving that for tonight. I had plans, too. There are some nice shops downtown, a museum I used to visit as a kid––”

Shaking my head, I push back. “All of those things will be there this evening or tomorrow morning. I’m…anxious. Ready.”

I want to erase the uneasiness Astrid’s message made me feel. I want to sink into the thick, syrupy, sweet happiness I feel when Johan is touching me. We might only have these few days before being separated again for God knows how long, and I don’t want to waste a second. I’ve been starving for him for years.

“Yes, Miss Hannah.” He grins, kissing my nose. “You’re an impatient little thing, have you ever been told that before?”

“Only by you,” I reply cheekily, and Johan laughs.

The walk back to the cottage is shorter than I remember, and we don’t encounter anyone on the way to our suite. Once inside, it doesn’t take long for us to shed our outer layers, our lips finding each other as we do. His sweater falls to the floor, and I’m running my hands over his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing the muscles there. The warmth of his skin makes me weak in the knees.

It’s afternoon now, and the warm and golden sun is shining in the window. I guess I always expected my first time at night—candlelight, red wine, silk sheets, and all that. This, though, feels right. Johan is so beautiful that seeing him in the light of day is a blessing. Every inch of him is art.

“What do you want, Hannah?” he asks, fingers threading into my hair and tugging my head back. His mouth moves over my exposed throat, teeth nipping, sucking kisses over my pulse point, and I bite my lip as my nipples tighten to aching points.

“I—” What do I want? Everything. Anything. All of it. “I want everything,” I moan, and Johan chuckles, his hands sliding over the swell of my hips.

“Of course you do. You’ve always wanted it all, haven’t you?” His voice is thick with arousal. “The entire world in your possession, right, sweet Hannah? All your little treasures—” His hands move lower, tweaking my nipples through my dress as he says “treasure”, making my pussy clench. Johan’s palm slides down my belly, and then his fingers press between my legs, rubbing through the fabric, making me whine. “—your drawers of trinkets, your insistence on coming to Cambridge, and now…this. You just can’t get enough, can you? Should I indulge you, Hannah?”

“Please, yes,” I beg. I don't even know what I’m pleading for, but I do. The heel of his hand rubs against the seam of my sex, and Johan kisses me hard, swallowing every gasp and moan that I give him. His words shake me to my core with their truth—he’s right. I want it all, everything he can give me.

“Your wish,” Johan begins, deft fingers undoing the fastenings of my dress, pushing it down over my shoulders,“is my command.”

My dress falls to the floor, and he helps me step out of it. The cottage is warm, and the sunlight feels good on my naked skin. He steps back, and his gaze travels over my body, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you. God, the things I’ve imagined doing to you.”

He's still dressed except for the sweater, and he takes a step towards me, his palm wrapping around the back of my neck and pulling me to him. Johan is so much larger than me, and yet, he’s so careful. It’s the tenderness that makes my chest swell, and then his mouth is slanting over mine, his tongue pressing insistently past my lips.

Johan tastes like the coffee and sugar he finished before our beach walk, and I can’t resist letting my hands roam over his broad chest, nails scraping over the soft fabric of his shirt until they reach the hem and slide underneath. He’s so warm and firm. My hands roam over the skin of his abdomen and then lower as Johan deepens the kiss.

His hand cups my breast, thumb stroking over the stiff peak of my nipple, and a small sound escapes me. Then, his hand is slipping down the plane of my stomach and into the front of my underwear. I can feel him smile when he realizes that they're soaked.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he says, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear and making me shiver. Two fingers find my clit and begin rubbing, slow and gentle. Johan's touch is electric, and it makes my hips buck. “What will you do for me if I make you come? Tell me.”

“Anything.”

“Say it,” he orders, and I blink, eyelashes fluttering.

“I'll do anything,” I breathe, and Johan groans, kissing me again, his fingers speeding up, sending sparks of pleasure through me. My orgasm is building, and I feel myself clench around his thick digits, my toes curling. I’m so sensitive from this morning, but the fact that I know we're going to go so much farther now, the intention behind his touch, makes it all the more intense.

“Come for me, Hannah,” Johan says, and I do, quick and fleeting. Just an appetizer of what’s to come. It’s not quite the same as this morning, but it's enough to leave me panting with his name on my lips, my head falling forward, resting against his chest. He strokes me through the waves of my pleasure, and then his fingers are withdrawing, and Johan’s tongue is cleaning them, his eyes closing in bliss as he sucks the taste of me off his skin. “God, you’re perfect. Get on the bed.”

I do as he says, but not before stripping off the last of my clothing, leaving me completely bare to his ravenous gaze. Johan’s hand works at the button of his pants, and they slide down his narrow hips, his cock straining against his briefs. When I climb onto the mattress, it’s soft beneath me, and I’m watching as Johan removes the last of his clothes.

“Beautiful.” His praise makes my chest swell, and then he’s kneeling on the bed and crawling towards me, his expression awed. I expect him to touch me where I’m aching, to reach for my nipples or between my legs once more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stretches out beside me and pulls me into his arms.

Instinctively, I hook one leg over both of his, feeling his erection pressing into my stomach as he crushes me against him. I’m drowning in his warm, masculine scent, the heat of his skin, and the shivery sensation of his stubble on my throat. Johan’s lips move from my neck to my jaw, and finally, my lips, capturing my mouth in a kiss that is so full of yearning that it makes my chest ache.

Oh, this is more than lust. More than need. This is so much more than sex.

The pace of things changes, even if the destination is still the same. When he cups my face, the tenderness in his touch is almost heartbreaking. When I loop my arms around his neck and pull him even closer with my leg over his until there isn't even air between us, it's because I can't get enough of him. There are years of desperation, aching desire, friendship, longing...just so much of every emotion between us that it threatens to pull us both under. Instead, we find a way to show each other with our bodies what we’re both feeling so powerfully. There is no room for words.

Minutes tick by. Our naked make-out session, grinding against each other, becomes too much for both of us, and Johan pulls back. Propped up on one elbow, he reaches for me, his fingers skimming my jawline, and his blue eyes are soft.

“Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod, unable to speak. Johan’s smile is tender, and then he’s kissing me unhurried again. His hand slides down, over my collarbone, my breast, down over the swell of my belly. Finally, two fingers press between the folds of my pussy, and I can feel how slippery I am with arousal. “Good girl.”

When Johan's fingers slide inside of me, stretching me, prepping me for his cock, I gasp. It’s not painful; it’s just a lot. He rolls me beneath him, fingers continuing to work me as his lips find my nipples. I arch into his touch, a hand sliding into his hair and holding him in place, as Johan laves attention on each hard, pink point.

“Johan,” I whimper, the sensations of his lips a live wire to my core. “More.”

He responds by adding a third finger, and my hips lift, his knuckles pressing into the mattress between my legs, making me cry out.

“I love hearing you,” Johan admits, and his tongue circles my nipple. His eyes remain locked on mine as I squirm beneath him. “Every little sound. I want to memorize them all. What about this?” He curls his fingers upwards, and his palm grinds against my clit, making me gasp. Johan repeats the action, and I see stars. “I could watch your face as I make you come for the rest of my life and die a happy man.”

“I—” My mind is short-circuiting. Johan's fingers are hitting the exact right spot inside of me, his touch and his words bringing me to the edge faster than I could have ever imagined. “I want to watch you, too. Touch yourself.”

“Jesus, Hannah,” he breathes, and his free hand wraps around his shaft, stroking as I rock against his hand, feeling the pressure building and coiling tighter and tighter. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about you while doing this, and now…” Johan leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, “fuck, now you’re really here, and it's a thousand times better than my imagination. I’m going to make this so good for you, sweetheart. I’m going to make sure you never forget the feeling of me inside you.”

Something about his words causes my control to snap. My orgasm takes me by surprise, and I clamp around Johan’s fingers, nails scratching down his bicep as he finger-fucks me through my climax, whispering dirty encouragement against my skin. His thumb brushes over my clit, and it prolongs the pleasure until my body is shaking.

“Fuck,” Johan curses, maneuvering us so he’s holding me close once more, this time with my back to his chest. My body feels like jelly. Johan is propped up on his side, and his lips brush over the nape of my neck as his arm wraps around me, hand palming my breasts. His cock presses into my ass, and I feel a slick trail of his precum against my skin. “You’re going to drive me to madness, you know that?”

“Mmhm…” I nod, reaching back and cupping his hip. Johan hisses between his teeth at the increased contact, but to me, it's the best feeling in the world. His nose is pressing into my hair, and even after coming twice, I feel the way his words and light touches affect me. “I can see that.”

“You want more, don't you, sweet girl?” he asks, pressing one knee between my legs, spreading me open. His cock is trapped between us, and I’m so wet that the head of it slides against my entrance, making both of us groan. “Tell me.”

“I need more,” I demand, and I feel his smile against my skin.

“I can’t get enough of your demands. I won’t deny you––not ever.”

With those words, Johan’s hips press forward, and the head of his cock sinks into me. My fingers grip his hip, and I feel him stretch me, the ache delicious, and the satisfaction that it’s him, Johan Bentinck, who’s finally inside of me, making my chest feel tight. Inch by inch, he fills me until he’s fully seated, and both of us are panting. Even with my eyes squeezed shut and my lips pressed tight, the pain fades beneath the overwhelming pleasure of the moment—the pleasure of feeling him.

“I’m trying to give you a minute to adjust,” he explains, his voice strained. “But you feel so fucking good that I just want to move.”

“Do it,” I urge, and he groans, his hips rocking back and then forward. He does it again and again, the movement slowly increasing, the drag of Johan’s cock in and out of my pussy making me moan. His hand moves from my breasts and slides between my legs. With Johan’s chest pressed against my back and his hips fucking into mine, two fingers find my clit, beginning to rub tight, quick circles. The increase in sensation is electric, and though it should be impossible, my channel grips him even tighter.

“We're going to take this slow,” he promises, “because otherwise I’m not going to last.”

Just like earlier, we're skin to skin in every place possible, Johan’s big body cupping me almost protectively as his hips slowly piston in and out. My mind is reeling from the feeling and the knowledge that he’s actually inside of me––finally! This is what I’ve wanted for so long. This moment. This second.

I’m senseless, breathing his name softly as Johan kisses my shoulders and neck, murmuring words of praise as he does so. He tells me all the sweet things, and I soak them up hungrily. I want to stay like this forever, but at the same time, I want him to move just a little faster. Something unnameable is building inside me, a pleasure so deep and intense that I’ve never felt anything like it before.

“You’re doing so good,” Johan rumbles. “My sweet Hannah.”

“I want you to kiss me,” I’m babbling, and I don't even care. “I want to see your face. I can’t?—”

I don't even have to finish my request before he’s pivoting, rolling me beneath him. I yelp unhappily as his cock pulls out of me, but Johan's movements are fluid as he hitches one of my legs over his shoulder and positions himself outside of my entrance once more. This time, I’m swollen and wetter than ever, and the sight of his hard, thick shaft sliding into me is enough to make that deep, building sensation grow tenfold.

Johan leans down and kisses me hard, just like I wanted. Our lips meet, and it’s a battle of teeth and tongues, of desire and pent-up feelings, and I’m lost in the pleasure of the new angle. He’s able to thrust deeper, and the slap of our skin filling the room is mind-bindingly erotic. My nails rake down his back, and Johan growls against my neck.

“I’m close,” he admits, and I am too. What started as embers are being stoked into a wildfire, and I nod, unable to speak as Johan's thrusts pick up speed and intensity. He’s bracing himself above me, and the muscles of his arms are tense. The look on his face is something that I'll never forget. This is Johan in his most raw form, and it's gorgeous. “Come for me, baby. One more time, let me feel you?—”

The orgasm slams into me, and it's so different from the others. It’s not as sharp or instantaneous, and instead, it builds, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me and making me scream. Johan fucks me through it, and he swears, hips stilling, his cock buried so deep inside of me. I can feel him jerk, and the warmth of his seed fills me. The knowledge of it, the way it feels coating my inner walls, has the aftershocks of my own orgasm firing off.

“Hannah...” Johan's voice is thick and heavy, and I’m limp in his arms, my body spent. He lowers my leg, and then he collapses against me, burying his face in my neck. Even though he’s larger and heavier than I am, I love it, and I cling to him. We’re both sweaty and covered in each other. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Johan rolls onto his side, and his arms circle around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. He’s still inside of me, and we’re sticky, but he doesn't seem bothered. Outside, I can hear birds singing and the lazy lake waves lapping against the shore. The fact that it's still the middle of the day shocks me. I feel like we've been here, tangled with each other, in each other, for hours and hours.

“Did that live up to your fantasy?” Johan teases, and I laugh, feeling his smile against the back of my neck.

“So much more than I could have ever hoped,” I admit, and he sighs with satisfaction. “It was…you’re incredible.”

“Damn right, I am,” he agrees, and I giggle, wiggling back against him. Johan's breath catches, and then he chuckles, his arms tightening around me. “Careful. I don’t think I can go again just yet.”

“Mm, we'll see about that,” I tell him, turning in his grasp. I wrap my arms around him as he slips out of me. “You just need some motivation.”

Johan looks down at me, his blue eyes shining and expression tender. My heart clenches, and I know what he will say before he opens his mouth.

“I should've met up with you the very day you showed up on campus,” he tells me, and my lips curve into a smile. “I’m sorry it took me so damn long to do something about it. To untangle the mess I made….”

Oh no. I don't want to go down this path. The remainder of the failed message to Astrid tries to claw its way to the surface of my mind, but I shove it back—not right now, not this weekend.

“I think you more than made up for it,” I offer, and Johan hums in agreement. He kisses me, his fingers winding in my hair and tugging gently. “You can’t change the past.”

“Mm, you’re right.” His expression is soft, and it takes my breath away. “I just want you to know, Hannah, that this isn’t just sex for me. This is more, and I’m serious.”

“Johan…” I swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from him. This is everything. “Yeah…for me, too.”

His smile is brilliant, and then Johan kisses me again. This time, when he rolls me beneath him, neither of us complains about the stickiness or the sweat. It’s all just part of this beautiful thing between us—a culmination of years of yearning finally reaching its explosive end.