Her words — "then don't stop" — rang through me like a dare, like permission I hadn't known I was waiting for. My mouth found hers again, slower now, deeper. We pressed close, as though our hearts themselves were trying to bridge the distance and beat as one.
Her fingers traced along my stomach, slipping just beneath the hem of my shirt. My skin jumped at her touch, and I groaned softly against her lips. I let my own hand wander lower, hesitating at the curve of her waist before sliding to rest at her hip, steadying her, needing the contact as much as she did.
For a heartbeat we both stilled, caught in the weight of the moment. It was the kind of silence that thrummed with possibility, dangerous in its sweetness. Every brush of her hand, every shift of her body against mine, whispered of how easy it would be to tumble further, to let the rest of the world disappear.
But she pulled back slightly, just enough to meet my gaze. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her lips swollen from our kisses.
There was a question in her eyes, a flicker of fear tangled with desire, and it hit me then — how much she trusted me, how close we stood to something neither of us could take back.
I lifted a hand, brushing her hair from her face, and whispered, "Emma…" My voice broke on her name.
She pressed her forehead to mine, breathing me in, and for a long while neither of us moved.
The heat still simmered between us, but it softened, settled into something tender. She didn't take her hands away — her palm still rested flat against my bare skin — but she stopped exploring, and I understood.
We weren't running away from this moment. We were just… holding it, letting it burn without being consumed.
When I finally kissed her again, it was gentle, almost reverent. A promise more than a demand.
She sighed into it, her fingers curling lightly at my side as if to anchor me there.
And though part of me ached with the wanting, another part of me — deeper, steadier— knew that this was enough. It had to be enough. For now.
Her breath fanned across my lips, warm and uneven, and I couldn't stop staring at her. Every tiny detail etched itself into me — the faint freckles across her nose, the damp curl of her hair at her temples, the way her pupils swallowed the green of her eyes in the fading light.
My hand stayed at her waist, not pulling her closer, not letting her go. She didn't move either. We just sat there, locked in the quiet, our hearts drumming loud enough I swear the whole forest could hear.
It was almost unbearable, this closeness without release, but at the same time I didn't want it to end. It felt like standing on a cliff edge with her hand in mine —terrifying and exhilarating, but safe, because she was there.
She brushed her thumb absentmindedly against my skin under my shirt, a small, hesitant stroke, and my whole body tightened at the tenderness of it. I leaned into her touch without thinking, and she let out a soft sound that sent the heat rushing through me again.
But then her eyes fluttered closed and she whispered, "If we go further, everything changes."
Her words trembled in the air between us.
I pressed my forehead harder against hers, swallowing down the knot in my throat. "I know."
My voice was rough, but steady. I wanted her to hear the truth of it.
She didn't pull away, though. Her hand stayed exactly where it was, and I felt her pulse racing as fast as mine.
We weren't moving forward, but we weren't stepping back either. We were caught in this fragile, aching balance — so full of longing it almost hurt, and yet somehow sweeter than anything else we could have had.
I let out a shaky laugh, the tension twisting inside me. "You're making me fall apart, Emma, in the best way."
She smiled faintly, her lips brushing mine without kissing, and whispered, "Maybe that's fair. Because you've already unravelled me."
And we stayed there like that, suspended between want and restraint, holding the moment as if it could last forever.
Neither of us moved, but everything inside me was racing forward. Her hand stayed pressed to my skin, my palm steady at her waist, both of us trembling at the closeness. The forest seemed to hush around us, like it knew we were holding something too fragile to disturb.
I wanted to tell her everything — how she had changed me, how she was the only thing that mattered anymore, how she owned my heart and soul — but the words felt too heavy, too final.
And yet, I couldn't let her slip away from me without some kind of promise.
"I don't care what happens after the summer ends," I whispered, my lips brushing hers with every word. "I'll wait. For you. I promise to find you, wherever you are. However long it takes."
Her eyes opened at that, wide and shining, and I thought she might laugh at me, or push me away. Instead, her breath hitched, and she said, "And I'll wait for you. Even if you're far away in the city, or anywhere… even if we can't see each other. I'll still be yours."
The knot in my chest loosened, replaced by something fiercer, brighter. I tightened my hold just slightly, like I could anchor her to me. "Then that's it. It's settled. You and me."
She smiled — a small, tremulous smile, but certain. "You and me."
Her forehead pressed harder against mine, and in the softest voice I'd ever heard, she added, "I won't ever belong to anyone else. I promise you"
The weight of those words nearly broke me open. My hand slid up her back, fingers curling into her hair as I kissed her again, slow and aching. It wasn't hunger this time — it was a seal, a vow pressed into the very air between us.
When we broke apart, her smile was nervous but steady. "We'll hold onto this," she whispered. "Even when everything else is gone."
I nodded, my own voice too thick to answer. Because I knew she was right. We couldn't control the world outside these woods, or our parents, or the end of summer. But this — we could keep this.
The two of us stayed like that until the sky darkened above, caught in that fragile, desperate closeness, promising ourselves to one another without ever daring to say the word that sat unspoken on both our tongues.