Chapter 23
Jul 4, 2025
“I don’t want my last memory of you to be goodbye.”
He freezes like I’ve cracked something inside him. The air stills. I can hear the sound of my own breathing, shaky and terrified. But I step closer anyway. I reach for his hand. I grab it. I don’t let go.
“You were the first boy to really see me,” I whisper. “Let me choose what I remember.”
Grayson doesn’t speak. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t try to fix it or pull away. He just looks at me. Really looks. Like he’s trying to memorize every inch of my face, every tremble in my voice, every scar I’ve tried to hide. His fingers tighten around mine like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
“I don’t want it to end like this,” he finally says, voice rough. “Not like this.”
“But it is,” I murmur. “And we can’t pretend it’s not.”
My heart is beating too fast. My stomach twists with nerves and want and heartbreak all tangled together. But I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure.
He steps toward me like he’s not sure I’ll still be here if he moves too fast—slow, measured, his eyes locked on mine like gravity. Like he can’t look away and doesn’t want to.
His fingers brush my cheek, featherlight, and I lean into it instinctively, already aching for more. His thumb grazes my bottom lip, and his breath stutters, like even that little touch undoes him.
He hovers just above me, lips barely grazing mine, and my entire body stills in anticipation.
Then he kisses me.
It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s consuming. Like he needs it. Like he needs me. Like he’s starved and I’m the only thing that’s ever satisfied him.
“You don’t owe me this,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice rough, shaky with restraint.
“I know,” I say, brushing my lips over his again. “But I want it. I want you.”
That’s all it takes. He exhales sharply, then kisses me harder, deeper. His hands slide beneath my shirt, finding bare skin. His touch makes me gasp. He smiles against my mouth like he knew I’d react like that.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lips dragging along my jaw, down my throat. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
My shirt comes off first—slowly. His fingers fumble on the buttons, but he doesn’t care. He kisses every inch of skin he uncovers. The valley between my breasts. The line of my stomach. He moans softly when he sees my bra.
“You wore this for me?”
I nod, breathless.
His hands slide up my sides, unhooking it with maddening ease. He peels the lace away and lets it fall between us. His eyes darken.
“Fuck.” He cups one breast, thumb teasing my nipple. “Look at you. You’re perfect. So soft. So sweet. I want to ruin you.”
“You already are,” I whisper, trembling.
“Not yet,” he growls. “But I will.”
He lifts me, lays me on the bed like I’m breakable—then climbs over me like I’m not. Like I’m his.
When his mouth finds my nipple, my back arches off the mattress. He sucks, slow and hot, switching to the other with a groan like he’s getting drunk on my body.
“You taste like heaven,” he mutters. “And I haven’t even gotten to your pussy yet.”
I gasp. My thighs shift. He grins.
“Oh, Juliet, are you that wet already?” His hand slips into my shorts, past my panties, and groans against my mouth when his fingers meet soaked heat. “Shit. You’re dripping.”
He pulls back just long enough to yank my shorts and underwear down my legs in one motion. Then he spreads me open, eyes fixed between my thighs like I’m something holy.
“You’re gorgeous here too,” he says, voice low, reverent. “Messy and ready. Just for me.”
He leans down, kisses the inside of my thigh, then licks a slow stripe up my center that makes me cry out. His tongue flicks, circles, devours. His fingers sink into my hips, pinning me as he feasts on me like he’s never getting another chance.
Because he isn’t.
And maybe that’s what makes this so desperate.
When I come, it’s with his name torn from my throat, shaking under his mouth. He groans like he’s the one breaking.
He slides up my body, kisses me hard. I taste myself on his lips. I don’t care. I want more.
“Are you sure?” he breathes, forehead resting against mine. “Because once I’m inside you, I won’t be able to pretend this is nothing.”
“Then don’t pretend.”
He groans again—deep, guttural—and pushes inside me with one long, slow thrust. I gasp. Stretch around him. Cling to him.
“Jesus,” he breathes. “You feel like heaven. So fucking tight. So perfect.”
His pace starts slow—deep, dragging thrusts that have me moaning with every movement.
“Look at you,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine. “Falling apart. Let me see you come, baby. Let me feel it.”
I do—loud, helpless, shaking around him. He doesn’t stop. Keeps fucking me through it, chasing his own release.
And when he finally comes, it’s with a curse and a moan of my name, collapsing over me, both of us gasping, clinging.
We don’t speak for a while. Just lie there, tangled and quiet.
Then, finally, he whispers into my hair, voice wrecked and soft, “You make me wish I didn’t fuck this up. Wish I had more time.”
I pull him closer.
“So do I.”
Afterward, we lie there, tangled in sheets and silence. My head rests on his chest. His heartbeat drums under my ear. The world outside doesn’t exist. Just this. Just us. For one more second.
“I love you,” he says quietly.
The words hit like glass. I shut my eyes, but the tears still slip out. I cry silently, because I know it doesn’t change what comes next. Because love isn’t always enough. Because we were doomed before we began.
He feels it too. I can tell by the way he wraps his arms around me tighter, like he can hold the goodbye off a little longer. But time is cruel. And reality doesn’t wait for broken hearts.
We don’t speak again. Not about tomorrow. Not about the future we don’t get to have. We just hold each other, pretending this one night can stretch forever.
Eventually, we get dressed. No rush. Just quiet movements and swollen eyes. My hands shake when I button my shirt. He helps with the last one. Doesn’t say a word.
I kiss his shoulder before I leave. Not his lips. Not his neck. Just his shoulder. Like I’m planting something there that will stay long after I’m gone.
And we walk away like it meant nothing.
Even though it meant everything.
