Through some kind of miracle, Oliver and I manage to keep our hands (mostly) off of each other until we’re back in the hotel room. Once the door closes, he twirls me until my back is pressed against the wall. The kissing intensifies quickly—desperate tongues, nipping teeth—and our hands are all over each other, touching and exploring, getting to know each other in the only way we aren’t familiar with yet.

I get totally swept up in Oliver’s kisses, his hands sliding along every curve, his mouth tasting every every inch of skin it reaches. I’m not even sure how I ended up with my legs around Oliver’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back as he kisses me breathless.

With the wall holding up most of my weight, Oliver goes exploring, teasing the skin on my belly as he inches his hands beneath my shirt. He licks his lips before he latches onto my neck, the sensations making me lose track of myself to the point where I let my head loll back and smack into the wall.

Oliver immediately reaches back and rubs the spot as I hide my face against his neck, absolutely mortified.

“I’ve never caused a sex injury before,” he says, cradling me against him.

When the mortification dies down, I sit up, careful of my head, and look Oliver in the eyes. They’re all crinkly around the edges like they usually are when he’s happy.

“Is this just sex? You and me?” Not that I don’t want the sex, of course I do, but I don’t know if I can sleep with Oliver as part of a friends with benefits situation. He has my whole heart, even though I doubt he knows it, and I want to be as careful with it as I can.

Oliver takes a deep breath. “Felicity,” he whispers, cupping my cheek. “There’s no just anything with you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, needing the confirmation more than I anticipated.

“Are we moving too fast, or…I’m willing to wait as long as you need, I know this is probably sudden, and—” He releases his hold on me, lowering me until my feet touch the floor, but he still keeps me close.

“No.” I rest my hand on his chest. “We’re not moving too fast. I just wanted to…if we do this, I can’t…” My brain is all lust-addled and I can’t figure out the right way to express what I want to say. I do my best to steady my breathing, the rest my hand over Oliver’s heart, hoping he’ll understand.

“How long?”

His breath catches. “A long time.” He gets it, I knew he would.

I laugh, and he smiles at me. “That’s not a good answer. Are we talking six months? A year?”

He kisses me sweetly. It’s a far cry from the frenzied making-out-against-a-wall thing we were doing just a minute ago, but it’s perfect for this moment.

“Ten years?” He brushes his nose along my cheek, then kisses me again. “Fifteen, maybe? I know it’s not the most romantic thing, but I can’t think of the exact moment I realized it. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

I press my lips against his. “That is the most romantic thing.” This is all happening…this love I’ve held close to the chest for nearly half my life is finally blossoming right in front of me, and it’s overwhelming. Happy tears sting my eyes, a few slipping down my cheeks when I try to blink them way.

“Hey, hey,” Oliver whispers, brushing the tears away. “None of that.”

I smile as best I can, and say, “I love you too, you know.” My voice is shaking with the weight of it, and letting go of this huge secret I’ve been holding onto makes me feel giddy and light. “I have for so long.”

The smile he responds with is absolutely gorgeous.

Now that my fears of a one-night-stand have been put to rest, I’m impatient to move things along. Oliver seems more intent to luxuriate in this, to take it slow, because when I reach for his shirt to rip it off, he clasps his hands around my wrists.

“Let’s just…” I rest my hands on his sides, sliding my hands up along his ribs, feeling the goosebumps bloom along his flesh as I slowly lift up, up, up.

Oliver doesn’t break eye contact with me until he absolutely has to, and he grabs at the back of his shirt and pulls it off, tossing it over onto the sofa.

I take my time learning the soft slopes of his chest, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the taut muscles of his abdomen. I kiss my way along his pecs, letting Oliver’s increasingly ragged breathing guide my way.

“I’ve always loved your body,” I say breathlessly, unable to be embarrassed about admitting it when he’s looking at me with half-lidded eyes all drunk with lust.

I get a relaxed smile in response. “I’ve noticed.”

I purse my lips, trying to figure out if I should protest, when Oliver traces along the low-cut v-shaped neckline of my sweater. “The feeling’s always been mutual.”

He slides my shirt up over my head, tossing it somewhere over by his. I wrap my arms around him, needing to feel his warm skin on mine. He holds me close, his hands running along my spine as he pays a lot of attention to the spot just below my ear that makes me go weak in the knees.

I reach for his hand. “C’mon,” I say, leading us back to his bedroom. The lights are muted in here, setting a romantic mood.

We make our way over to his bed, and my nervous fingers fumble with the button and zipper on his pants. Oliver steadies me, and with one push his pants fall into a puddle on the floor. His chiseled body is a sight, lean muscle and tan skin, and his erection tenting the cotton of his boxer briefs.

It’s enough to make my breath catch. This is really happening.

Oliver moves in close and kisses me as he reaches behind me and tugs on the strings of my bikini top. When he pulls away, the slip of fabric falls, and Oliver moves in quickly, touching and tasting my skin, laving his tongue across my nipple.

Needing something to hold onto, I card my fingers through his hair, gripping locks of it in my hands. It’s just right, apparently, if the heated moan Oliver gives in response is any indication.

He picks me up bridal-style, laying me down on the bed with a quick bounce, then he leans over me, making quick work of my pants and bikini bottoms. When I’m naked in front of him, Oliver leans down and kisses me, slow and warm, till I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

Then he kneels down at the bottom of the bed near my feet, fingers gently brushing along my shins as he looks at me like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“I always imagined…” he begins, shaking his head. “This is so much better.”

Pointing my foot, I do my best to hook my toe on the waistband of his boxers. “Same, I think.”

Oliver laughs, getting the drift. He smiles as he hops off the bed. He pushes his boxers down.

“Wow,” I breathe, voice shaky as I get my first look at his impressive, impressive body. I push myself up close enough to touch, and slide my hand along the length of him, giving him a gentle tug. My name falls from his lips roughly as his eyes flutter shut. He gives me a rough grunt accompanied by a hum that lets me know he wants more of this later. It’s too much now, so I back off.

“Same,” I say, refocusing. “It’s definitely same.”

Oliver tilts his head back in a full-bodied laugh, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

I’d spent a lot of time over the years that I’ve loved him wondering what sex with him would be like. I imagined his body, imagined that it would feel good, but my brain could never conjure up the wonder of being vulnerable with my best friend, that it would be safe, warm, fun, and…so easy.

Loving Oliver is like breathing to me.

I fall back on the bed as Oliver climbs back up. He picks up my leg and kisses my ankle, down my calf, behind my knee, the inside of my thigh. He kisses my hipbone, his tongue leaves a wet trail up my belly to the undersides of my breasts, across my nipples, along my collarbone.

He slides his hand between us, parting my legs as he kisses me. He gets to work, making my hips buck as he rubs tight circles around my clit and curls his fingers inside of me in perfect tandem. He watches every expression, reacts to every noise I make, like learning my body is his new job and he wants to be the absolute best at it.

My heart starts pounding as I get close. So close.

“Oliver,” I say raggedly. “I want you. Now.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. I tear it open, he puts it on.

Once we’re safe, he settles between my legs, propping himself up on his elbows. A tender moment passes between us as Oliver slides the backs of his fingers along my cheeks, looking at me with so much affection.

“I love you,” I say with a soft smile, because we’re about to take a huge step that we can’t undo, and doing that in love is the very best way in my opinion.

Oliver brushes his lips against mine. “I love you.”

His heart thumps wildly against my chest as he pushes inside, and he lets out soft sighs as his hips start rocking against mine. I wrap my arms around his back and hold on tight, wanting to be as close to him as I possibly can, and wishing I could still get closer. I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in, kissing the crook of his shoulder, as we move together so slow and so perfect.

We don’t say anything. We just breathe together and hold on as each kiss melts into another one, as each touch makes me want a thousand more.

I want so much more. I’ve never felt this alive, this loved, this cherished, this in sync with another person in my whole life.

Oliver wraps his arm around the small of my back, pulling me closer as he moves faster. He grunts when I rock my hips, so I do that a little more. I whimper when he goes deep, so he does that a little more. We both hang onto each other as we give in to the amazing things our bodies can do with all this love we have for each other.

He breathes out my name when I wrap my legs around his waist, wanting more of the tingling rush I’m feeling on the soles of my feet to the tips of my toes. He slides his hands between us working me up into an orgasm that comes so fast and so strong that I have to bury my face in his neck to keep from crying out as waves of pleasure rush through my body and fizzle out at my fingertips.

Oliver isn’t far behind me, his hips stuttering as he kisses me deep, pressing his forehead against mine as he comes. I run my hands up and down his back as his breathing slows. He gives me a few soft kisses before he pushes himself up and disappears into the bathroom.

I lie wrapped up in the sheets, smiling up at the ceiling. I feel…sated in a way I never have before. And I want Oliver back in bed so I can talk to him as much as I want him back in bed to cuddle.

I really hope he’s a cuddler.

Oliver crawls back into bed and lays on his back. For a split second the disappointment seeps in, but then he turns over on his side and pulls me in close, so my back is pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around me, threads our fingers together, and rests his chin on the top of my head.

“I was worried you weren’t a cuddler, Oliver.”

He kisses pushes my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck. “Marathon cuddler here,” he says. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“Happy to be.” I press my lips against the back of his hand and close my eyes, my body spent and tired, but my mind and soul completely at ease.