It Was Always You

A Good Night Kiss

Chapter 14

…Lucas’s POV…

The truck rumbled down the empty dirt road, sweet tea clinking in my cup holder. The radio played soft country tunes I barely registered. In the passenger seat, a lemon-patterned tea cup nestled in a small bag—light, delicate, perfect like she was.

I stared at it, heart pounding.

I glanced at Olive beside me, her eyes closed, skin glowing in the last light of dusk. I thought about how gently she’d carried herself through the day in town, leaning over to examine candles, and browsing over the selection of tea cups with her arm looped in mine. That gesture—so soft—had spoken volumes.

The cup felt like her. Sunlight, warmth, small sweetness hidden in plain sight. I’d thought it in the shop, felt it in my hand. I wanted to give it back to her, a piece of who she is that I see, cherish, and understand.

In the theatre, I couldn’t stop looking at her. She watched the actors, lit by stage lights, rapt and alive. I should’ve been watching the show, but my eyes traced the curve of her jaw, the way her eyelashes fluttered, the way her lips parted during the funniest lines. She was more beautiful than any scenery on stage.

Dinner had been a blur of conversation—laughter, stories, plans. We joked about my not so elite disguise. She told me about her life in the years since I finished college. I was kicking myself for leaving her there after graduation as she explained her last 2 years of college, searching for a job and landing on a waitress position instead of something with her degree. I’d told her how happy I am she trusted me with small moments like that.

Moments like this.

We rode in silence now, the quiet settling around us like a blanket.

I squeezed her hand when she stretched, her hand finding mine in the dim glow. “Home soon?” She asked quietly.

She opened her eyes, blinking like she’d just woken up. “Yeah.” I replied. Her voice was soft and husky, full of something I didn’t yet know how to name.

About a mile from home, I slowed and pulled into the drive. We sat, parked under the stars.

“It was perfect,” I said.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I didn’t even want it to end.”

We climbed out and walked up the steps together. My pulse thumped so damn hard I could feel it in my throat.

“Goodnight kiss?” I asked, attempting casual.

She pressed her hand to the door. “I was hoping for more.”

I caught her dress in the porch light, the hem fluttering like a promise. I leaned in, lips capturing hers in a gentle press—but there was no gentleness in her response. She pulled me inside, closing the door behind us.

…Olive’s POV…

I shut the door softly and leaned into the wall behind me. I needed him so desperately—every bone in my body ached; the kiss had inflamed something I’d been denying myself for weeks.

He stood close. I burned to reach up and stroke his face, but instead placed both hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his heartbeat under my palms. He matched my intensity, pressing against me as if that would erase the space we’d held.

When he pulled back, eyes dark with want, I whispered my truth. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

His jaw flexed. “I was trying to protect us.”

I leaned in again, voice low and certain. “You don’t need to protect me from you.”

Then, with one gentle lift, he gathered me into his arms like I was breakable. My heart caught as my legs wrapped around his waist. I clung to him, light-headed with the closeness.

He carried me upstairs, footsteps heavy and deliberate. At the bedroom door, I pulled him closer, hands trailing up his neck, down his shoulders, over the curve of his back until I discovered the snap of his jeans.

He gasped, raking his eyes into mine. I tugged him forward, prompting urgency I felt pulsing in both of us.

We made our way into my room. Buttons undone. His lips brushing my collarbone.

He captured my breast with one hand, the other gliding over my stomach. My breath quickened as his mouth found mine again, this time lower, trailing across my neck, and I arched into him, the smoke of his touch setting me alight.

I felt him answer with his hand, sliding under the hem of my dress to explore skin that shivered at his fingertips. He paused, waiting—but I wrenched my hand into his hair, tugging until his lips returned to mine.

He paused again and muttered, “I’ve wanted this so much.”

I met his gaze, raw and honest. “Then don’t stop.”

I dropped to my knees before I could second-guess it, my hands already tugging at his jeans. The sound of his zipper was loud in the quiet room, and when I looked up, his jaw was clenched tight, his chest rising and falling like he’d just finished a sprint. I palmed him through his briefs, slow and firm, until he growled my name—low and sharp like it hurt to say. When I freed him, he was already hard, thick and hot in my hand. I wrapped my lips around him, tasting him, and the guttural sound he let out sent a jolt straight through me.

He threaded his fingers through my hair, not guiding, just holding—like he needed something to keep himself tethered. I took him deeper, hollowed my cheeks, let my tongue swirl at the base before pulling back. I wanted to memorize every twitch, every ragged breath, every time he gasped my name like it meant something. “f**k, Olive,” he groaned, trying to pull me back up, but I wasn’t finished until he was gripping the edge of the dresser like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

When he pulled me back up, his mouth was on mine. Hungry, messy, desperate. He spun me around and lifted me onto the edge of the bed. His hands slid under my dress, dragging my panties down my thighs, and the second his fingers touched me, I arched back with a sharp cry. He didn’t tease, he was already inside me, slow and deep, curling his fingers just right while his thumb worked delicate circles exactly where I needed them. My hips rocked against his hand, chasing it, needing more. I clung to his shoulders like I might break apart without him.

I was shaking. So close. And when he kissed me again—deep and claiming—I shattered in his arms, completely undone.

When he couldn’t wait anymore, he paused, meeting my eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nodded—sure, and tired of holding back the need that burned inside me.

“I need you to use your words Olive. I need you to tell me what you need right now.” he rasped when we broke away, breath hot and ragged.

“I need you,” I whispered, voice raw with feeling.

He found my opening with ease and slid deep inside of me, the movement slow, deliberate, perfectly paced. A pulse of pleasure, building until heat and noise overtook us both in rhythmic waves.

I moaned his name, breath mingling with his. Every friction, every sigh, every shudder landing like fireworks beneath my skin.

When release came, it was a sweet, crashing wave. I grit my teeth and arched into him. There was nothing but want and trust, letting go fully for the first time in a very long time. He stilled, murmuring against my hair, and collapsed beside me.

…Lucas’s POV…

I lay next to her, chest to chest, heart matching the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Our skin was warm, bodies wrapped in blankets.

She turned her head to me, eyes soft and dreamy. “That was,” she started to whisper.

“Worth every second of waiting,” I replied.

She smiled with a tenderness that tore at my chest. “Stay?” She whispered. Both of us knowing that we’d have to talk to Owen tomorrow.

I kissed the curve of her forehead. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

We drifted toward sleep, tangled and quiet. I thought about tomorrow, how we would handle Owen. I knew this wasn’t another detour or distraction. It was the beginning.

And it was just the way we were always meant to go forward—together.