I wake slowly to the soft tickle of Oliver’s fingertips drawing patterns on the skin beneath my belly button. This bed, this pillow and these sheets combined with the warmth and comfort of Oliver’s body wrapped around mine makes it pretty much impossible for me to open my eyes. I want to stay right here—in this moment—for as long as I possibly can.

After all the years that I spent wanting Oliver and thinking it was one-sided, loving him and thinking he didn’t love me the same way, last night almost feels like a dream. I’m hesitant to wake up, to have anything about last night ruined here in the light of day.

Part of me is afraid that I’m just imagining Oliver right now, that he’ll regret what happened last night, regret telling me how he feels, and I’ll roll over to a cold, empty spot.

I just want to keep this forever.

Without really thinking about it, I rest my hand on top of Oliver’s. He stills, which lets me know this isn’t a dream, and nestles his face against my neck. His stubble scratches and tickles my skin, and I let out soft sighs as he presses light kisses everywhere he can reach.

With only a minor grunt of annoyance, Oliver lets me roll over so we’re face to face, then wastes no time wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.

I smile at him like a huge idiot before he leans in and gives me a sweet kiss.

“Good morning,” he says.

I kiss him again. It feels amazing to be able to do this so freely after wanting it for so long and thinking I’d never get the chance to do it. “Good morning. I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, going in for another kiss, but Oliver pulls away first. His eyebrows are knit together in confusion, and I don’t miss the brief—but obvious—flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Where did you think I’d be?” he asks patiently.

I duck my head, regretting the fact that I don’t have the kind of verbal filter I probably should this early in the morning, and that I’d so quickly spoiled the mood for what should be a pretty great morning after.

“Felicity,” he whispers, gently tucking his fingers under my chin and lifting my head so I’m looking him in the eyes. “Where did you think I’d be?” He looks like it physically hurts him to ask the question.

With a little shrug, I say, “Part of me thought you might regret what happened, regret giving in when you’ve been fighting it for so long. I spent so long thinking this thing between us was one-sided, and now you’re here with me in the way I always wanted you to be, and I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

That answer seems to relax him, thankfully. He plays with a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “There is no other shoe. I could never regret you. I think my only regret is that I waited so long to tell you how I feel about you.”

“Why did you?” I don’t want to be upset over wasted time because we have the here and the now and I’m incredibly grateful for that, but still.

Oliver lets out a short sigh. “I don’t have the best track record with women, or having successful relationships. You…Felicity, I knew you were different, and I wanted things to be different with you. I wanted to be the best version of myself with you, and I was never sure if I was ready. You’re my best friend’s sister, and I’ve loved you for so long…there was just…there’s always been a lot on the line when it comes to you.

“It killed me seeing you with other guys, but you always seemed happy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. It’s gotten harder and harder for me to push aside my feelings for you over the years and this weekend just showed me how foolish I’ve been not to give into it. I love being with you; the happiest I ever am is when we’re together, and I’m tired of depriving myself of that.”

I give him a tender kiss, lightly scratching my nails through his stubble in a way that makes him hum. I’m going to enjoy doing all the things I’m gonna have to do to him in order to learn his noises.

“I’m happiest when I’m with you too,” I admit.

Oliver just grins, and here with the early morning light shining on his face, I think he might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“And… just for the record, Ben doesn’t make my decisions for me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

With a small smile he says, “I know he doesn’t. That’s not what I’m worried about.” Oliver quietly studies my face for a few seconds, and cups my cheek. “I love your freckles,” he says, sliding the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone. He leans in and gently kisses the tip of my nose. “They’re cute.”

“Got a lot of sun yesterday,” is all I manage to get out while my stomach does this weird, lovesick flip-flop in my belly.

“Let’s try getting sun more often. With you in that bikini or out of it.”

I laugh. “Is this how it’s going to be now? You voicing every dirty little desire that flits through your mind?”

“Well, maybe not every dirty little desire, but a lot of them.”

“Good to know,” I reply, giving him a quick peck.

“I’m serious about the bikini thing though. I love you and and I love your body.” He slides his hand from my shoulder blades all the way down to my ass. “I want to see you as much as possible.”

I’ve never dated someone with such an open appreciation of me and my body. Especially the parts that I’m self-conscious about, which Oliver spent a lot of time appreciating last night. Not that we’re dating. Honestly, I don’t even know what we’re doing.

“Noted.”

He goes in and sucks at the skin beneath my ear a little, teasing me. I’m torn between getting lost in the feel of his tongue on me, the growing hardness of his erection against my thigh, and a nagging feeling that I have about something he mentioned a few moments ago.

Even though I don’t want Oliver to stop, I also won’t be able to fully enjoy myself until I mention this one thing that’s bothering me.

“Oliver,” I say, nudging him away so I can see his face. “Look at me.”

He lets out a low hum of annoyance but does what I ask anyway. His eyes are half-lidded, but the seriousness on my face must snap him out of it.

I slide the backs of my fingers along his cheek. “Me thinking you might not be here this morning probably poked at some of the issues you had with letting me know how you were feeling,” I say, sliding my hand up and down his arm. “I’m sorry about that.”

He gives me a soft kiss. “I want you to tell me how you’re feeling, regardless of how you think I might react. That’s the only way this thing is going to work.”

“What exactly is this thing?” I ask. “Not that I need a label right nor, or that I’m pushing or anything, I was just wondering if we’re being casual, or—”

“Felicity,” he whispers. “This could never be casual for me. I want you. But there are a lot of pieces to this. Maybe we should just keep it between us for a little while?”

I nod in complete agreement. Our group of friends is so close-knit that there would be intense pressure on us right out of the gate. Not to mention what I’m beginning to realize might be a tense situation between Oliver and my brother. Waiting for a little while is probably for the best.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Oliver leans over me, resting his weight on his elbows. I widen my legs and nudge him closer, welcoming him into the cradle of my body. He brushes his lips against mine and licks into my mouth as we twine our fingers together. When he pulls away from our kiss, he nuzzles his nose against mine.

“I love you,” he says.

My heart skips a few beats; I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to hearing that. To seeing the sweet blue of his eyes, so intense when he says it.

“I love you, too. I think we should spend the rest of the day right here in bed.”

He hums in agreement as I card my fingers through his hair. “But our flight leaves at noon.”

I roll my head to the left and check the time. “We have a few hours.”

He kisses his way across my collarbones. “And it’s my plane. It can wait.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, as Oliver works his way down to my nipple, circling it with his tongue and then nipping it with his teeth. “Earlier you said you wanted me to tell you how I’m feeling.”

Oliver hums, sending an electric vibration across my skin.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

He looks up at me, eyes hooded as he licks his way down, down, down, and I drop my knees to make room for him.

“Good,” he says, sounding almost drunk on lust as he lowers his mouth onto me. “Give me a minute and I’ll make you feel amazing.”

Oliver and I manage to make it to the plane nearly on time, and after a long flight and what feels like an ever longer ride back to Manhattan, his driver pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment.

We kiss at the car.

In the elevator.

In the hallway with me pressed up against my front door, and

On the other side of my front door, with Oliver and I both getting a little too enthusiastic and nearly knocking an amethyst bowl off of the console table in my entryway.

The way he’s kissing and nipping his way along the crook of my neck isn’t really helping me make sense of the flurry of incoherent thoughts that are flying through my mind right now, but I try. “You don’t have to go, you know. You could stay here tonight.”

“I’ve been gone a week.” Kiss. Another kiss. A nip at my earlobe that has me making a noise I’ve never heard before as his hand grips my ass to pull me closer. “I should go home.”

He says it without any real conviction, and I know a little bit of persistence is going to pay off big time here.

“You can stay here with me,” I say, carding my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. “We can sleep, or…not sleep if you want. You can get up early in the morning and go home before work.”

“Miss Williams, are you advocating a walk of shame?” The smile in his voice makes the words almost melodic.

“Nothing shameful about us,” I whisper.

Oliver pulls away and cradles my face, such love in his eyes. He follows that with a tender kiss, one that’s a far cry from the heated making out we were doing just a few seconds ago. “No, there’s not.”

“Please stay,” I say, sliding my hand around his waist and pulling him close. “We can get in some shower time in the morning.”

That perks him up. Before we left Portland, Oliver and I had a lot of fun getting dirty together while we were getting clean. Who knew water could be such a turn on? Me, now. I know.

“Mmmmm, shower time,” he hums. I can practically feel the fight leave his body, not that there was much to begin with.

“Go down and get your suitcase, and tell your driver to pick you up in the morning.”

When he pulls away from me, he looks like an excited, mischievous kid. I can’t really blame him there, considering a whole colony of butterflies has set up residence in my stomach and it doesn’t seem like they’re going anywhere anytime soon. Being with Oliver makes me feel alive, like everything is so full of possibility. I don’t ever want it to end.

Oliver slips out of the door, and for the first time this early in a relationship, I don’t feel the need to hurry into the bathroom to fix my makeup, or straighten my hair, or make sure I look perfect. Oliver made it crystal clear last night how much he loves me, even the parts of my body that I’ve struggled to accept.

He makes it back up to my apartment with his bag in record time. After a long day of traveling, we just collapse onto the couch. We snuggle as Oliver flips through the late news. The snuggling turns into a little bit of making out, and then the two of us finally decide it’s time for bed and make our way into my bedroom.

Oliver doesn’t follow me inside at first, he just stands in the doorway, observing the space.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just looking,” he says with an amused smile as he takes everything in. “It’s very you.”

I take a glance around my room, trying to see it through Oliver’s eyes. It’s an eclectic mix of furniture I’ve picked up through the years. Some in thrift stores, some in flea markets, all refurbished or redecorated in some way by me. It’s not matchy-matchy, but somehow it all just fits. There’s a wide array of fabrics in the upholstery, the pillows, the bedspread. There are pillows that I made to test out the durability of certain patterns, and some that I made just because I wanted to keep the prints around.

Polaroids circle my vanity, and those seem to draw Oliver’s attention.

“May I?” he asks, nodding toward the pictures.

“Yeah, of course.”

He takes his time, looking at Polaroids from summer vacations when we were younger, some pics I’d taken during parties in college with people I struggle to keep in touch with these days. Oliver grins at all of them, but lingers on the ones of the two of us throughout the years.

“I like this,” he says, sliding his finger around the edge of a photo of the two of us soaking wet on the deck of my dad’s boat when we were in our early teens. “That I’ve always been here.”

“You’ve always been here,” I say, bringing his hand to rest over my heart. It’s cheesy as hell—I know this—but I can’t help myself. I’m a lovesick moron at this point. “We’ve had a lot of good times together.”

“We’re gonna have a lot more.”

I push up on the tips of my toes and kiss him. Here’s hoping.

Oliver plants himself on the edge of my bed as I go into the bathroom, strip off my clothes, and put on my sleep shirt and shorts. I pile my hair on top of my head and wash my face, then smooth various lotions into my skin that probably don’t do anything, but make me feel better for trying anyway.

When I’m finished, I notice Oliver watching me.

I walk over to him and stand between his legs. He gently rests his hands on my hips.

“You seem transfixed by my Stay Young Looking Forever Nighttime Beauty Regimen.”

The corner of Oliver’s mouth quirks up. “Is that what you call it?”

“Yes, I’m going to have it copyrighted.”

“Trademarked,” he corrects.

Oliver hitches the hem of my shirt up with his thumbs, rubbing small circles on the skin above my shorts as he loses himself in his thoughts.

“I’ve never been around for this part of someone’s day before,” he admits. “I’ve honestly never made an effort to be. It’s…intimate. That’s new for me.”

“Good new?” I ask nervously. I think I hide it pretty well.

He looks up and rests his chin on my stomach. “Yeah. Great new, actually.”

“We can do all sorts of new stuff together.”

Oliver raises a brow. “Oh yeah?” His hands move from my waist to my ass, giving it a squeeze. “What kinds of new stuff?”

I playfully smack his hands away. “New stuff like brushing our teeth together. Grab your Dopp kit and let’s explore new horizons together, my love.”

With a tender look, Oliver gets up, grabs his suitcase, and joins me at the sink.

We brush together, giving each other foamy smiles. When we’re finished, Oliver moves to put his toothbrush back in his bag.

“You can leave that here if you want,” I say, tapping my finger over the empty hole in my toothbrush holder. “There’s room, and that way you always have one here.”

Oliver just stares at the holder like he’s never seen one before, and in the silence that follows I start thinking that I’ve overstepped. “You don’t have to,” I reply quickly. “It was just a suggestion. You know I don’t want to push, and I’m sorry if I—”

Oliver cuts of my spiral with an oh-so minty kiss. “I’m not freaked out.” I must give him a look because he says it again. “Really. I’m not. This is all just…surreal? Having this after convincing myself that I shouldn’t. A good surreal.” He drops his toothbrush in the holder and smiles.

It feels right.

We walk out into my room…and stare at the bed.

“Do you have a side?” Oliver asks.

“Left. You?”

“Right.”

I give him a skeptical side-eye. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

He puts his hand over his heart. “It’s one-hundred percent true. I wouldn’t lie about bed sides.”

Oliver peels off his shirt and takes off his pants. I just openly appreciate the sight because I can do that now. No more hiding what I think of that body, no sir. Given the smug look on Oliver’s face, he seems okay with that.

We both get in under the covers, and just gravitate toward each other. I rest my head on his shoulder and fling my leg across his, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me so close.

I lie there for a few seconds before, “All of a sudden I’m not that tired.”

Oliver flips me onto my back without any warning, and rests his weight on his elbows. The display of core strength, the flexed muscles, the way Oliver’s smirking at me…it’s all combining to do a lot for me, honestly.

He slides his hand along my side, lifting my shirt up, up, up until he’s palming my breast, and working my nipple with his thumb the way he’s learning that I like. With a deep, dirty kiss he says, “I think I know something that can tire us out.”