Between The Lines

Chapter 138: Soft, Slow, And Utterly Perfect Kisses

Rebecca's POV (1st Person):

I lay wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, my heart still racing from earlier. Sleep wasn't an option—there was too much running through my mind, too much I couldn't shake. All I could think about was Lane.

The way his fingers had moved inside me, the way he had touched me—so confidently, so intensely—had left my body tingling, even hours later. I pressed my lips together, trying to quiet the memory of her own voice echoing in my mind. The way I had moaned—so loud, so uncontrollably—it sent a flush of embarrassment through me.

God, I hadn't been able to stop. The sound had escaped me, raw and unfiltered, and it wasn't just once. It was every time his hands moved over my skin, every time he whispered something in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. I bit her lip, trying to keep my face from burning at the memory. But no matter how embarrassed I was, there was another part of me—a bigger part—that couldn't forget how good it had felt.

The way Lane had looked at me—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. His eyes had darkened with desire, his hands never hesitating, never second-guessing. And the way he had whispered my name—so low, so full of need—it had sent shivers down my spine.

I shifted under the covers, my body still sensitive, still aching from the intensity of it all. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but it was no use. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see him—the way his muscles had tensed under her touch, the way his lips had brushed against my skin, the way he had made me feel like I was completely and utterly his.

I sighed, rolling onto my side, my thoughts still swirling. Lane had been gentle with me, careful, but there had been an underlying hunger in his touch, one that I hadn't been able to ignore. And now, lying here in the dark, all I could think about was how much I wanted to feel that again.

But with that thought came another—one that made my cheeks flush with embarrassment all over again. Had I been too loud? Too obvious? God, what if I had embarrassed myself? I cringed inwardly, remembering how my moans had filled the room, how I had been so lost in the moment that I couldn't hold back. Had he noticed? Did he care?

I groaned softly, burying my face in the pillow. Of course, he had noticed. He had been right there, after all. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks again just thinking about it.

I took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts away, trying to convince  myself that Lane didn't mind—that he liked the way I had responded to him. But still, a small part of me couldn't help but feel embarrassed. I had never been like that with anyone before, never felt so out of control, so overwhelmed by someone else's touch.

But with Lane, it had been different. Everything with him was different.

I sighed again, closing my eyes and willing myself to fall asleep. But the memory of his hands on me, his lips against mine, lingered in my mind, making it impossible to forget.

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I woke up to the warm glow of sunlight streaming through the cabin's windows, casting soft rays over the bed. I blinked, still caught between the fading remnants of sleep and the present, trying to shake off the lingering dreams. But then, something wet and warm touched my cheek—soft, persistent, and familiar.

Lane.

I shifted slightly, feeling the weight of him hovering above me. His lips pressed against my skin again, trailing slow kisses along my jawline, down to the corner of my mouth. Each kiss was unhurried, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

I let out a quiet hum, the sensation tugging me fully out of sleep. "Mmm... morning."

"Morning," he murmured against my skin, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down my spine.