Eric's hands gripped my waist, then hesitated like he wasn't sure he had permission. I covered them with mine and pressed closer.
"Okay," I whispered.
He nodded like he wasn't sure whether to speak or cry, and I kissed him again before either of us could think too hard.
When we finally pulled apart, our breathing was a mess—loud and uneven, like we'd run uphill blindfolded. His cheeks were bright pink. He looked at me like he couldn't believe what was happening but wanted it all to be true.
"Are we really doing this?" he asked.
"If we're not, we're both about to be very embarrassed."
That made him laugh—a soft, unguarded sound that broke the tension like sunlight shattering storm clouds.
We fumbled down the narrow hallway toward the living room where there was more space, bumping shoulders and knocking into the wall once so hard it made a framed photo tilt. Neither ofus fixed it. Our mouths kept finding each other, more confident now but still sweetly unsure.
At the end of the hall, I meant to guide him gently against the wall, but I misjudged the space and nudged a chair instead. The scrape made us both jump.
"Well, that was smooth," I muttered.
"We're naturals." Eric's grin warmed me.
I kissed it off his face to see if I could.
His hands tugged at the hem of my shirt.
"These things areaggressive." His fingers fumbled with the buttons. "Who designed flannel like it's body armor?"
"Here." I took over, popping the buttons open one by one until he could slide his hands beneath the fabric. His palms were warm. When they skimmed across my stomach, I shivered.
He stared at me like he was watching something sacred unfold. I couldn't hold his gaze for long—it was too much. Too seen. So, I reached forhisshirt, and when he raised his arms, I pulled it off fast enough that static lifted his hair into a slight halo.
He blinked. "Whoa, that was kind of hot."
"Shut up." I laughed and kissed him again so he'd forget I was blushing.
We pressed together, skin to skin. My hand drifted to his lower back, pulling him tighter, and he exhaled a low whimper into my mouth.
Then came the awkward part. Jeans. Belt loops. Zippers.
His fingers brushed mine at the waistband, and we both paused.
"Should we—?"
I answered immediately. "I think so unless you want to stop?"
"No. I just... haven't... done this much with a guy."
I reminded him. "Sixteen years. Actually, longer than that."
His eyes widened. "Seriously?"
I nodded. "So, we're kind of figuring it out together."
Eric smiled again. "That's actually... pretty great."
What followed wasn't graceful. There was a stubborn pant leg, a tangle of socks, and one moment where he nearly tripped, stepping out of his jeans and caught himself against the counter.
He gasped between laughs. "We're gonna break something."
