Three days

Chapter 4 - ALEX

I kissed her like a man who had been starving for years and had finally been allowed to eat.

The taste of her—salt and soft skin and the faint sweetness still left from earlier—flooded my mouth. Kate’s lips parted under mine, and the quiet sound she made went straight through me. I kept the kiss slow, deliberate, even though every nerve in my body still hummed from the way she’d clenched around me only moments before. My c**k, still buried inside her, twitched at the memory. I was only half-hard now, sensitive and slick with both of us, but the urge to stay connected was stronger than any physical need.

I broke the kiss just enough to look at her.

Kate’s eyes were dark, lashes still damp at the corners. Her cheeks were flushed, mouth swollen from me. The low gold light of the lamp painted her skin in warm shadows. I let my gaze travel downward, slow and deliberate this time—over the curve of her breasts, the soft plane of her stomach, the faint silver stretch marks that caught the light, the fuller thighs still trembling lightly against my hips. Evidence of the life she had lived without me. Evidence of the child she had carried and delivered while I was somewhere else.

Something tight and complicated moved through my chest.

I had known, of course. She had told me. But knowing and seeing were different things. For half a second the old, ugly fear tried to surface—that her body might feel foreign now, that the years and the birth might have put something between us I couldn’t cross. That I might look at her and feel anything less than the raw, hungry want that had never really left me.

It didn’t happen.

The soft belly, the stretch marks, the fuller thighs—none of it bothered me. Not even close. They only made her more hers. More real. More the woman I had never stopped wanting. The fear dissolved under a wave of something fiercer and quieter: She’s still mine for three days. And I am going to worship every inch of this body while I still can.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, a small, knowing curve at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m memorizing,” I answered, voice rough. My thumb traced the line of her cheekbone, then drifted lower, skimming the soft curve of her stomach, the fine silver lines there. “I spent a long time trying not to remember how you look like this. Doesn’t work very well.” I swallowed. “None of it bothers me, Kate. Not one mark. Not the softness. Not the way your thighs feel under my hands now. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe more than before.”

I shifted my weight carefully, still reluctant to leave her body. The slow slide of me pulling free made us both inhale. I felt the warm rush of my own release follow, and something primal and possessive tightened low in my gut. I reached down, two fingers gathering the slick evidence of what we’d just done, and pressed them gently back against her, as if I could keep myself inside her a little longer. Kate’s breath hitched; her thighs trembled around my hips.

“Alex…”

“I know.” I kissed the corner of her mouth, then the hinge of her jaw. “I’m not done looking at you. Or touching you. Or being inside you.”

I rolled onto my side, bringing her with me so we faced each other. The hotel sheets were already a mess—damp and tangled around our legs. Her robe was still half under her hips like a discarded shadow. I tugged it free and tossed it toward the chair without looking. Then I pulled the top sheet over us both, creating a small, warm world that smelled of s*x and lavender and skin.

Kate’s hand rested against my chest, fingers lightly tracing the line of muscle. I covered it with my own, holding her there so she could feel how hard my heart was still beating.

Three days.
The knowledge sat in my chest like a bruise I had already decided to ignore. Three days and then she would go back to her life and I would go back to mine. I would have to let her go. I already knew that. The thought of it—of waking up alone again, of the quiet that would settle in once the door closed behind her—sent a sharp, familiar ache through me. But I refused to let it steal what was in front of me right now.

So take everything she’s offering while it’s still yours. Enjoy her. All of her. Every sound, every mark, every soft place. Don’t waste a second of it.

“Three days,” I said again, quieter this time. “I meant it. No rushing out in the morning. No polite distance. I want to wake up with you. Fall asleep with you. Argue about what to order for room service. f**k you slow until you forget what day it is, then f**k you hard until you remember my name is the only one that matters.”

Her laugh was soft, almost shy. “You always did have a way with words when you wanted something.”

“I want you.” I leaned in, brushing my mouth over hers once, twice. “The version of you that used to steal the covers. The version that argued with me about everything and then climbed into my lap five minutes later. The version that looks at me the way you’re looking at me right now. Soft belly. Stretch marks. Fuller thighs. All of it. I want every single part.”

Kate’s eyes searched my face. I let her. I had nothing left to hide in this room—not the years, not the regret, not the sharp, almost painful relief of being allowed this close again, and not the quiet agony of knowing it had an expiration date.

Her free hand slid down my stomach, lower, until her fingers wrapped loosely around me. I was already thickening under her touch, the residual sensitivity making the contact feel electric. A low sound escaped my throat.

“Still greedy,” she murmured.

“For you? Always. Especially knowing I only get three days of it.”

I kissed her again, deeper this time, while her hand stroked me with lazy, knowing strokes. The kiss turned hungrier. I rolled her onto her back once more, settling between her thighs, and the head of my c**k nudged against her entrance—already wet again, still soft and open from me. I didn’t push in yet. I just stayed there, teasing both of us, forehead pressed to hers.

“Tell me you want this,” I said against her mouth. “Not because we used to. Because you still do.”

Kate’s legs tightened around my waist. Her answer was a soft, certain, “I want you, Alex.”

I sank into her in one slow, continuous thrust.

The heat of her closed around me, perfect and familiar and brand new all at once. I groaned into the side of her neck, hips already beginning a deep, rolling rhythm. This time there was no urgency to race toward the end—only the need to feel every inch of her, to watch her face as pleasure built again, to mark the hours of these three days with the sound of her breathing my name.

Three days, I thought again, the knowledge sitting heavy and bright at the same time. I will take every hour. Every night. I will remember what we used to be and find out what we still are. And when it’s over I will let her go, even if it kills me. But not yet. Not tonight.

Outside, the city kept moving.

Inside the room, I moved with her—slow, deliberate, and entirely present—one heartbeat, one shared breath, one long, claiming thrust at a time.