We Are Us

A strangled laugh leaves my throat. “I think that’s fair.”

We sit down and Gavin spends a few minutes going over the basics of the game before dealing out the cards. It’s not as easy as gin rummy, but I get the hang of it after a few rounds.

And when Gavin lifts a mischievous brow and asks, “Want to make things interesting?” I know exactly what he’s doing. Not just poker. Strip poker.

That’s when I realize just how much pla

I’ve imagined the night Gavin and I would finally go all the way a million times. But I’d only focused on the physical aspects. Would it hurt? Will there be blood? What if I do it wrong?

It never crossed my mind that he would take such care with… everything.

But, of course, it should have.

Gavin Cross is one of a kind.

And he’s mine.

After his pair of aces beats my pair of queens, I stand up to shimmy my jeans down my thighs. Watching me, Gavin’s fingers fumble with the cards, his eyes glazing over with appreciation. Before he can deal out another hand, I crawl into his lap and throw my arms around his neck. “I’ll tell you again later, but just so you know, this is the best night of my life.”

“Don’t say that yet. We haven’t—” Gavin breaks off, and a nervous expression pulls at his features.

My heart softens. In all this, I’ve almost forgotten that tonight is Gavin’s first time, too.

“Strike that,” I say, his hair caressing my fingertips. “It’s the best night of our lives.”

At that, I sense Gavin’s nerves easing. “So far.”

I echo his sentiment just as his lips claim mine, his mouth devouring all of my hopes and wishes and questions and fears. They are no longer mine, they are ours.

I am his and he is mine and we are us.

I must have spoken my thought aloud, because Gavin cups my face in his hands, the intensity of his gaze searing my soul. “I am hers and she is mine and—”

“—We are us.” My voice joins his, our hushed whispers leaving our lips like a prayer. We are wrapped up in each other, our bodies co

The moment stretches out. One second, then two, then three. Time is irrelevant. 

But the time for playing cards is definitely past.

He finally relinquishes eye contact to press a kiss to the top of my head, his breath fa

I moan softly, allowing my head to fall back. Gavin’s tongue sweeps across my pulse point and he chuckles, the sound as thick and decadent as the sap seeping out of the maple trees surrounding us. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

“I’m excited,” I whisper. And nervous, though I don’t want to admit it.

“Me too,” Gavin says as I slide my hands over his chest. His skin is warm, the stacked muscles of his abdomen tense and tight, the trail of hair leading south tickling my palms in a way that sends primal desire unspooling through my body.

 I’m wearing only the pale pink lace bra and panty set I bought for tonight. Gavin takes a minute to admire it, to admire me. His teeth sink into the fullness of that lower lip I love so much, pupils dilating as his fingers trace my curves through the diaphanous fabric. “Fuck, Poppy. You’re so …”

I’m expecting Gavin to say something simple, like pretty or beautiful. But instead he says, “perfect.”

I immediately roll my eyes and look away. Perfect is definitely not the word that springs to mind when I look in the mirror. My hair, including my eyelashes and eyebrows, is a strange shade of copper. My mouth is too wide, my hips not wide enough. I blush too easily, and find talking to most people too hard. But knowing that Gavin thinks I’m perfect, or at least perfect for him, is satisfying in a way I can’t even explain.

He cups my chin in a gentle hold and forces my gaze back to his own. “I’m serious, Poppy. It’s like every inch of you, every ounce of you, was made just for me.”

If I’d heard that line in a movie, or written in a card, I would cringe. But there is only reverence in the husky rasp of Gavin’s voice. Reverence… and love.

His hands run down my ribcage, his light touch on my sensitive skin making me suck in a breath as tingling sensations light up my nerve endings.

“Still so ticklish.”

I am. Over the years, there have been plenty of times when Gavin has pi

But I’m not laughing now.

And I’m definitely not laughing when Gavin bends down and rolls his tongue over my nipples, making them harden into desperately needy buds, turning the already sheer fabric completely transparent.

A gentle breeze enters our cave and sends my hair swaying over my back and shoulders, caressing my bare skin. I cling to Gavin’s shoulders, interlocking my fingers behind his neck.

I am trembling with anticipation. Shivering from an avalanche of sensations.

He unclasps my bra, a moan ripping from my throat as my breasts spill into the palms of Gavin’s hands. His touch feels so good, so right.

I’m smiling when Gavin pulls away from me, his fathomless blue gaze, as mysterious and mesmerizing as the night sky, capturing mine. And for a moment, the way he’s looking at me almost makes me want to cover up, to turn away and shield myself because I’ve never before felt so exposed, so vulnerable. So seen.

Like I’m giving him my body but what he’s really taking is my very soul.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, so very earnestly. “We don’t have to. I can stop right now… Why are you looking at me like that?”

The truth is, Gavin isn’t taking my soul, I’m giving it to him.

But that’s not true either. It’s already his.

Everything I am, my hopes and dreams and fears and needs, I’ve entrusted into Gavin’s hands, into his heart.

He will hold them safe. 

And tonight, my body belongs to Gavin too.

“Because I want to do this more than anything else in the world. Because I don’t want to stop. And because you are everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He stares at me, jaw just slightly slack, a corona of indigo encircling the black abyss of his blown pupils. And then he nods, as if he finally, finally understands that the river of emotion ru

“We are us,” I repeat.

Gavin gathers me into his arms so tenderly I feel tears gather in the corner of my eyes, like distilled drops of love and trust that ca

I’m naked, except for the last bit of lace between my thighs, but the heat of Gavin’s stare keeps me warm. And it burns away my worry about what will happen when we leave Sackett.

I know now that I have nothing to fear. Every day since we’ve met has created a tiny filament of trust. Gossamer thin strings that have woven together, becoming a braid, and then a rope. As days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years, Gavin and I forged an irrevocable co