Finding Birch Street

Chapter 4

He pulled her legs higher, draping them over his shoulders to open her up completely. The new angle hit harder, deeper, and Leah’s back arched violently off the mattress as a fresh wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, knuckles white, as she tried to find something to hold onto.

“Look at me,” Romano commanded, his voice a rough rasp.

She opened her eyes, hazy and unfocused, and found his dark gaze burning into hers. He was watching her with an intensity that felt more intimate than the touch itself—as if he were trying to see every thought, every sensation passing through her mind.

He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, shallower, building a friction that made Leah’s entire body tremble. Her breath came in short, jagged gasps, her lips parted as she struggled to keep up with him.

“That’s it,”

He let out a low, guttural sound, his forehead dropping against hers as he drove into her one last time with everything he had left. The release was violent, a shuddering wave that seemed to pull the very air from the room. Leah’s body tightened around him, her eyes rolling back as she lost herself entirely to the sensation.

Romano collapsed onto her, his heavy frame pinning her into the mattress. His heart hammered against her chest like a trapped bird, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a long minute, neither of them moved, the only sound the ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment and their own labored breaths.

Slowly, he shifted, rolling to his side but keeping her tucked against him. His arm draped over her waist, pulling her back against his chest in a loose, protective hold. His fingers traced lazy, absentminded patterns along her hip, his skin still slick with sweat.

“Don’t move,” his voice a low murmur against the back of her neck. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, a slow, steady motion that seemed to be the only thing keeping him grounded.

The room had settled into a heavy, comfortable quiet. The streetlamps outside had shifted, casting new patterns of light across the ceiling. Romano’s chest rose and fell in a slow, deep rhythm against her back, his warmth radiating through her skin like a steady hearth.

“You okay?” he asked after a long silence, his lips brushing her shoulder. It wasn’t a formal question—it was a quiet check-in, delivered with the ease of someone who had already seen every part of her.

His hand moved from her hip to her stomach, his palm flat and warm. He didn’t say anything more, just held her there in the dark, the silence between them filled with the fading echoes of what had just happened.

" I always thought my first time would hurt more, you made it perfect ” Leah says

Romano’s hand stilled on her stomach. He didn’t pull away, but his grip tightened just a fraction—not enough to hurt, just enough to acknowledge the weight of what she’d said.

He turned his head, pressing his lips against the damp hair at the nape of her neck. “It was supposed to be perfect,” he said, his voice rough and stripped of its usual edge.

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her. In the dim light, his dark eyes were softer than she’d ever seen them, the predatory intensity replaced by something quiet and steady. His free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip with a tenderness that felt almost foreign on him.

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth before meeting her eyes again. “You’re not just anyone, Leah.”

The weight of his words hung in the quiet room, heavier than the silence that followed. Romano didn’t look away. He held her gaze with a stubbornness that seemed to say he meant every syllable.

His hand slid from her cheek down to her throat, his thumb resting just above the pulse point where her heart still hammered against her skin. He could feel it—the rapid, frantic beat of her body still catching up to itself.

“You think too much,” he said, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “About how things should be, about how they’ll go. Just stay here. With me.”

He pulled her closer, his body a solid wall of warmth against her back. His legs tangled with hers beneath the sheets, anchoring her to him. It was a simple gesture, but coming from a man like Romano, it felt like a claim.

“Sleep,” he commanded softly, his voice dropping an octave.