Dane

Dane been upstairs showering and trying to get his head around exactly where they were, and that they didn't have to leave. When he finally dressed and decided to go find Lila, his heart was thumping. And it got worse when he got downstairs and she didn't answer him calling her name. But then he caught movement on the porch and breathed a sigh of relief, then chuckled at himself.

​​

He was going to have to get used to being somewhere there wasn't a constant threat.

Lila was sitting sideways on the porch couch, her back to the arm closest to the door, a book in her hands, but she wasn't reading. She was looking out over the lake. And she was smiling.

As soon as he opened the door, she turned, smiling at him. "Hey, look at you! You're barefoot!" she said, her eyes widening at his feet.

He blinked and looked down. "Is that bad?"

"No… not at all," she said wistfully, smiling like it was special to her. "Not even close." She looked so beautiful there, her eyes unfocused, lips turned up in a smile, he just took her in for a moment. But when he didn't respond immediately, her smile dropped off. "Is there a problem?"

"Not one I can't fix," he said, frowning, then walked around to stand in front of where she sat on the couch. "It's just that there isn't really room for me on here when you're sitting like that, and I really need to touch you right now."

Her smile returned immediately and she scooted over, patting the space she'd just left. Dane dropped into it and put his arm along the back, while she lay back, her head in his lap and sighed happily.

He let his fingers comb her hair over his thigh as they talked.

And talked.

And talked.

They talked about the past. Remembered both good times and bad. They talked so long and about so many things, that at some point Dane went inside to get a blanket to throw over them. Then sometime later he realized the only light was coming from a lamp in the kitchen and Lila was curled into his side, because she was cold.

Eventually, they both got quiet, staring out over the water.

Dane rolled his head on his shoulders and sighed. He was suddenly exhausted. It was like this place leeched all the tension and adrenalin he'd been running on for years, right out of him. But he didn't want to sleep. He just wanted to be.

"I keep being afraid it's a dream and I'll wake up," Lila said, her voice quavering.

"Hey, hey. It's going to take some getting used to, I know. But… no. This is real."

They stared at each other in the dark of the porch and Lila sighed. "I hope so."

The worry on her face almost broke his heart—like she hoped, but was afraid to. He knew that feeling.

Dane beckoned her up to sit in his lap, curled into his chest, her head against his shoulder. He held her there, stroking her back and hair. "This is real, Lila. This is ours. It's not going to end. We won't let it. We're going to sit here, on this night, five years from now and we're going to remember this moment and be grateful for it," he said, using one finger to push her hair back over her shoulder so he could kiss her cheek and nibble on her ear lobe. "And then in ten years we're going to sit here and you're going to tell me you're so bored, you started an affair with our son's math teacher and you guys are running off to San Cabo together."

She giggled and pulled her shoulder up to her ear.

"That will never happen," she sighed as he opened his mouth against her neck.

"Because you love me too much?" he murmured against her skin.

"No. Because I've always preferred the Caribbean."

Dane growled and nipped her neck, and laughing, she turned to grab his chin, forcing him to pull back and face her.

"I love you, Dane. And I don't think I've ever been happier in my life than I am in this moment."

"Me either," he said, his voice a rough gravel. "Me either, Lila."

He combed her hair back, and then leaned in to kiss her.

She took a deep, slow breath as their lips touched, her hands cupping his face. He held her, his arms fully around her side and her bent-up knees, keeping her curled to his chest as they kissed. Around them the trees fluttered in a cool breeze, and something rippled in the lake.

Dane hadn't meant to start anything. He'd just wanted her to know that he was happy and he loved her. But as his body tightened, and his breathing picked up, so did hers.

Soon she was pushing the blanket off her shoulders and turning around to face him, straddling his lap, and stroking his chest and shoulders as they kissed, and as his hands slid under her clothes to find her warm skin.

He got lost in the sound of her panting breath, the warmth of her lips, the cold of her nose, he got lost in rediscovering the warmth of her between her legs, and the smooth, smooth skin of her back.

He got lost in the little noise she made when he stroked her.

But there was no losing himself when she put her hands in his pants and started stroking him back.

He dropped his head back on the couch and groaned when they found the right angle so she could kiss her way down his neck and ride his hand, stroking him at the same time.

"Oh, fuck, Lila."

"Yes, please," she whispered.

He buried his free hand in her hair and pulled her in, wishing there was a way to devour her, to take her inside himself where she'd always be safe and loved.

When she gasped his name, his heart leapt—and so did his body, the emotion and tension of the past week shredding his control.

His breath thundered, his heart hammering in his ears as she began to writhe on him and he couldn't do anything but cling because if he did, he would either start to weep, or come.

Then, when she leaned back a little, with her mouth open, pressing herself harder against him, he swore because the moonlight played on her wet lips.

"I need you, Lila," he rasped.

"I need you too, Dane," she gasped without opening her eyes.