22. Savion

TWENTY-TWO

SAVION

"I fucking love looking at you."

"Really?"

Declan kisses my scarred temple and whispers, "Every one of them"—he kisses the raised flesh of my cheek—"is a symbol of"—he kisses the irregular-shaped pucker in my chin—"how fucking strong and amazing"— he kisses my scarred neck—"you are."

What can I possibly say to that? My heart swells, too full for words. I lean into him, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. It matches my own—rapid, alive. His scent, earthy and masculine, fills my lungs as I breathe him in.

When Declan releases me from his embrace, I linger in the warmth of his arms for a moment longer, unwilling to break the connection. But the intensity of his words—the tenderness in his kisses—has left me a little overwhelmed, my emotions too big for the small space between us. I need a second to breathe.

I step back, my eyes drifting to the sky. The stars, spread like scattered diamonds across the inky black, are breathtaking. Endless and vast. I latch onto that feeling, letting the cool night air wash over me.

Declan stays quiet, giving me the space I need. I can still feel the weight of his gaze, though, even as I keep mine on the stars.

"It's a much nicer view from down here," Declan's voice breaks through the quiet, low and teasing.

"Down where?" I glance back, expecting to see him still sitting in his chair. Instead, I find him sprawled out on his back, hands behind his head, completely at ease on the ground. He isn't looking at me right now, just gazing up at the sky as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

His body is relaxed, legs stretched out, but there's something about his posture that makes me think he's waiting for me to join him. His lips curl into a soft smile, barely visible in the dim light, as he extends a hand toward me.

"Come on," he says, his voice soft, inviting. "Trust me. The stars look different from down here."

I hesitate, glancing from the sky back to him. It's such a simple invitation, but there's a pull to it. I can't resist.

I move to join him, lowering myself beside him. Just as I'm about to lie down, Declan's hand shoots out, stopping me.

"Wait," he says, smirking up at me.

"What?" I blink, confused.

"I didn't bring you all the way out here for you to get sand in your hair."

I laugh. "Says the guy who's probably already covered in it."

"Hey, the things I do for the man I'm falling for." He winks, and my heart flutters at the playfulness in his voice.

Declan reaches to the side and pulls out a rolled-up blanket from his backpack, shaking it out with a casual flick of his wrist. It unfurls slowly in the moonlight, the edges catching the cool desert breeze as he spreads it over the ground. The fabric is thick and soft, the kind of material that will keep out the roughness of the desert floor.

"Better?" he asks, lying back down and patting the spot beside him.

I settle in next to him, resting my head on his chest. The blanket beneath us cushions the hardness of the ground, and as I lie there, feeling the warmth of Declan's body beneath me, everything feels... right. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and I let myself sink into the comfort of his presence.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble beneath me.

I turn my head slightly, resting my chin on his chest so I can look up at him. "What feels good? The view from down here, or my head on your chest?"

He chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a warm shiver through me. "Pick one."

I meet his gaze, the star-filled sky forgotten as his eyes hold mine. The blue of his irises, even in the dim light, is magnetic, drawing me in. His hand slips over my back, his touch slow and deliberate, sending sparks skittering across my skin. We're so close that his breath grazes my lips with each exhale, warm and steady.

"You're beautiful, Savion," he murmurs, his hand moving up to cup the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "So fucking beautiful."

The sky above us stretches out like a vast, starlit canvas, but the only thing I can focus on is him—the way his eyes roam over me, the gentle rasp of his breath, the comforting weight of his body beside mine. The world has shrunk to this moment, the stars, the desert, and us, wrapped in a blanket of intimacy that feels almost sacred.

I could not contain the smile that bursts from my lips, even if I tried. He smiles back, his eyes gleaming. His fingers brush my chin, and then he tilts my head up so I am staring directly into his eyes. He tips his head toward mine, and as I shut my eyes— waiting for a kiss—my heart flutters with a feverish anticipation I did not see coming.

His lips finally meet mine in a calm, unhurried kiss. My heart flutters even more wildly, the same way it did when we shared our first kiss.

My palm settles on his chest, just above his thumping heart. My heart is beating just as fast, just as loud. But then, it skips a beat when he starts to roam my body with his hands.

They trail a repetitive path along my back, and although my clothes are bent on watering down my pleasure, I can feel the warmth of his body seeping through the fabric anyway. Again and again, his skillfully silky tongue glides along my lower lip. And again, I part my lips to let him in. The soft, exploring organ works its way past my lips and starts to roam the warm, dark interior of my mouth. A moan slips from me, and is quickly met by a much louder moan rumbling from his throat.

"I want you, Savion."

Yes, yes, yes… oh God, yes. I want him right back.

"Can I have you… make love to you?" Declan's eyes are inquiring, hopeful.

Joshua trees, cacti and stacked boulders are mere silhouettes in the landscape of the desert and scrubland. Absent are the sounds of modern civilization. In their stead, I hear the rustling sound of the breeze blowing through the trees, the faint babbling of water, and the coos and cries of night owls creating nature's symphony orchestra.

But Declan's words, "Can I have you?" are lyrics, a beautiful melody for my soul. Yes, yes you can, Declan , is an elaborate choral, a repeated refrain in my ear. His words make me grow hot, feverish. I can barely push the words from my lips. I resort to nodding my head in response to his question.

Cupping my face in his powerful hands, his lips turn up in a smile. "I need your words, Savion."

Ignoring the fluttery sensations tumbling in my chest and stomach, I open my mouth and gasp, "Make love to me, Declan." No sooner have the words left my mouth than he swoops in and lifts me bridal style. I squeal. I can't remember the last time I've been lifted, and so effortlessly at that. Was it when I was five? Possibly six? I might not be as tall and muscular as Declan, but I'm not a small man. I've never had the opportunity to be lifted… except maybe in prayer. But fuck, Declan's strong. He makes me feel delicate, sexy, loved.

Because of his considerable height, he has to bend down to enter the yurt that's been set up for us, even while he holds me delicately in his arms. My eyes sweep across the expanse of our accommodation and I take in the opulent king-sized bed. The comforter has green and golden leaves printed on pure white designs, giving the bed a look of luxury. I spy a familiar travel bag and smirk. I look at him—and although I'm sure I already know the answer, I ask him, "Kelly helped you plan this, huh?"

Smiling, Dash's luminescent eyes dance. "You got it."

His soft chuckle reverberates through me. He sets me down gently on the plush bed. His lips quirk into a mischievous grin. "She was very thorough. I wasn't sure I'd need everything she packed, but she insisted."

I raise an eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Yeah, everything," he says, his tone playful yet serious as his fingers brush my cheek. His blue eyes gleam, but there's something teasing there. "She even put some lube in the bag. Just in case."

I freeze for a moment, a laugh bubbling up from deep in my chest. "Kells?"

Declan nods, his smile growing. "Said she wasn't going to take any chances with us being out here under the stars." His lips brush against mine again, softer this time. "Guess she thought we might finally… you know, fuck."

Heat rushes to my face, and I can't help but laugh. Leave it to Kells to prepare for everything. But the humor quickly fades as Declan's hand cups my jaw, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. There's nothing funny about the fire in his eyes now, or the tension sparking between us.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

I swallow hard, heart racing. "Yeah. I'm more than okay."

Declan's smile widens, and he presses his lips to mine, this time with a slow, burning intensity. My hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as our kiss deepens. Every nerve in my body comes alive as his hands slide beneath my shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of my back.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, "Tell me if you want me to stop."

I shake my head, breathless. "Don't stop."

He doesn't.

The world outside fades away. All I can feel is him. All I want is him.

"Declan," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat as his lips trail down my neck, igniting a fire in their wake. His hand moves lower, sliding over the waistband of my jeans. My pulse pounds in my ears, and my entire body responds to his touch with an urgency I've never known before.

"I want you," he murmurs against my skin, his breath warm and ragged.

I nod, gasping, "I want you too."

He tilts his chin, gesturing for me to look up. Wow! Above is a 360-degree transparent roof. How cool is that? We can stargaze in the comfort of the yurt. From the bed, I take in the kitchen area, an indoor fireplace that is already lit, and a few other odds and ends. And finally, my gaze lands on Declan, absorbing his stillness, even as his eyes devour me.

Doubt rears its head. "What the fuck are you doing? You're not ready for this!" it screams at me. And it almost wins. But it doesn't stand a chance against Declan's reassuring kisses as he lowers his muscular frame over me. He kisses his way from my lips to my cheek. His warm breath tickles my ear, making me tremble in his hold. Catching my earlobe with his teeth, he nibbles on it then continues down toward my shoulder. His hands work slowly, unbuttoning my shirt, moving it further down until my left arm is fully exposed.

It has been four years of celibacy, four years since the acid attack. And now being here with Declan seems like a brand-new experience—as though this is the first time I'm having sex. Well, technically Declan and I've had sex, if we consider all the hand jobs and oral sex we've been having. With the lights off, of course.

Giving in to the selfish demands of my doubts is easy. I decide to do something more challenging: to not give in, and to fight for my happiness. Declan's kisses are deeper now, his lips firmer against my skin. His hands travel along the full length of my arms. I shudder each time he touches my scars. His body covers mine, pinning me down as he picks up where he left off kissing me. He kisses my lips for a short while, then proceeds to kiss my neck and shoulders, his lips lingering wherever he finds my scars.

His fingers curl around the waist of my jeans. I suck in a shaky breath, mentally preparing myself for what will soon follow. But nothing can prepare me for the sudden feeling of inadequacy that overwhelms me when he lowers the zipper. Its teeth make a clunking noise when they come into contact with each other, the jangling a cacophony of sound as my body is slowly exposed to Declan's ministrations.

Once upon a time, my chest was described as strong, defined, and angular—the perfect combination to make any woman go nuts. At least, that's what a person who I've shoved to the far recesses of memory during the last four years used to say to me. But, now there are areas on my chest that are scarred. So, when Declan peels my shirt away from my chest, I snatch the fabric from his grasp and drag it back up to cover my nudity.

"Don't," Declan says, his eyes pleading. "Let me look at you… please."

Several moments pass as his dreamy gaze meets the forest green of my eyes. Eventually, I nod in acquiescence. This is more to do with me than him, a reassurance to myself that my scars do not make me any less of a man.

"You're gorgeous." He smiles reassuringly. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, see how beautiful you truly are. Can I?"

My automatic response is to nod my head, but I'm reminded that in moments like these, Declan wants me to use my words.

Still, all I can manage is a murmured "Mmhm." My heart jackhammers against my chest. I'm feeling equal parts lust and fear, two emotions warring inside of me. "Yes… you can." My lips quirk up in a smile. Lust seems to be gaining the upper hand over fear.

He slowly pulls my shirt and then my pants down, revealing my body inch by inch until my underwear is the only thing shielding my nudity. I chide myself internally for not making sure to wear my newest boxer briefs—but only for a moment. There are more pressing matters at hand as I'm overcome by shyness.

I want to fold my arms across my chest to conceal some of my scars, and for the first time, I'm strong enough to fight the urge.

Declan spends some time lapping and sucking my aching nipples. He crawls down my body, his skin effortlessly gliding along mine. As he inches his way down, he leaves a trail of wet kisses along my torso, and his hands simultaneously caress the sides of my body.

Declan's eyes are all over me, taking note of each reaction as he kisses his way further down until he arrives at my throbbing dick.

He smiles at me, his grin soft, eyes heavy with warmth and desire. There's a tenderness in his gaze that makes my chest tighten, like he's seeing all of me—scars, fears, everything—and accepting it without hesitation.

"We don't have to rush this, Savvy. We can take it slow, yeah?"

I nod, swallowing past the knot of nerves in my throat. This is a moment I've thought about a thousand times. A hundred fantasies run through my mind, but none of them come close to what it feels like now, being here with him. The tremble in my hands isn't only fear—it's anticipation, excitement that thrums through me like a live wire.

I wonder how it'll feel—how he'll feel. Will it hurt? Will I mess this up? A million questions swirl in my head, but they all fade away when I feel Declan's arms wrap around me. His warmth pulls me in, and for a moment, it feels like none of those questions really matter.

Our hands move awkwardly at first, fumbling over each other, unsure of where to start. Every touch is both familiar and new, and it's exhilarating, terrifying. His fingers brush mine, and our eyes lock—there's something vulnerable in his expression.

"I'm nervous," he admits quietly, his voice low, almost hesitant.

He's always so sure of himself, so confident. Hearing this uncertainty in him, seeing him this vulnerable, does something to me. I nod, trying to reassure him with a soft smile.

"Me too."

A kiss lands on my temple, slow and lingering, his lips pressing an unspoken promise into my skin. "Then we'll figure it out together."

I release a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding. Slowly, I undress him, no rush, no urgency—just a slow discovery. Every article of clothing peeled away feels like a small barrier falling between us. It's not perfect—buttons snag, zippers get stuck, and we both fumble with the lube like we've never seen a bottle before. We laugh, a little awkward, but that just makes it better somehow. It feels real, imperfect, like us.

Declan's hands become more confident, more sure as they trace my hips, sliding lower. My breath catches, the sound breaking the quiet, and he stills, his eyes finding mine, checking in.

I hold my breath, feeling the weight of Declan's gaze on me, his hands steady on my hips. We've come this far, our bodies pressed close, skin flushed from both excitement and nervousness, but this—this next part—it's new for both of us.

"You okay?" His voice is low, rough with restraint, but there's something softer beneath it—concern, maybe even tenderness.

I nod, my throat too tight to trust my voice. His hand traces a slow path down my spine, calming and grounding me as I bury my face in the pillow beneath me. The scent of him, woodsy and masculine, fills my senses. I take in a deep breath, letting the familiar comfort of him settle my nerves.

Declan slicks his fingers with lube, the sound of it almost too loud in the quiet room. My body tenses despite my best efforts. I'm not scared—nervous, yes—but with him, I know I'm safe.

"Savion…" He whispers my name like a promise, and then I feel his fingers gently probing, coaxing. The tip of his finger presses against my entrance, slow and patient, waiting for me to relax. When he finally pushes inside, it isn't painful—not really—but there's a stretch, a discomfort that makes me tense.

"Breathe for me," he murmurs, his free hand rubbing circles into my lower back, grounding me in his touch. "You're doing so good."

I exhale slowly, trying to relax into it, feeling the pressure ease as my body adjusts to the intrusion. "I'm okay," I whisper, more for myself than for him.

His finger moves inside me, testing, exploring, but never rushing. I can feel him watching me, gauging every twitch, every reaction. The discomfort slowly gives way to something else—something deeper, warmer. I clench the sheets beneath me, the tension in my muscles releasing bit by bit.

When he adds a second finger, my breath hitches. There's a sharper stretch this time, more insistent, but still, Declan moves carefully, giving me time. He's patient, so damn patient, and it makes my chest ache in the best way.

"Talk to me," he urges, his voice breathless but steady.

"Feels… different," I manage, my voice trembling, but there's no hesitation. It's honest. "Good, though. Just… give me a second."

He pauses, waiting, his fingers still inside me, gently stroking. The sensation is strange, foreign, but not unpleasant. There's a tenderness in his touch that makes the awkwardness of the moment feel… beautiful. Like he's offering me all of him, just as much as I'm giving him.

After what feels like an eternity, I give him the go-ahead and he adds the third finger. My body tenses automatically, a small gasp escaping my lips. It's more than I expected, the stretch pushing the limits of what I thought I could handle, but Declan soothes me with whispered reassurances.

"You're so tight, Savion," he murmurs, awe and lust mixing in his voice. "God, you feel amazing."

His words send a flush through my body, a strange mix of embarrassment and pride warming my skin. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, my chest tightening with anticipation.

"Declan…" His name is all I can manage, my mind unable to form a coherent thought beyond the pressure of his fingers, the way he fills me, stretches me. I'm on the edge of something—something I didn't know I needed until now.

"I got you, baby," he says softly, withdrawing his fingers. "I've got you."

I hear the slick sound of more lube, imagine the cool sensation as he coats himself. My body trembles, half from nerves and half from the sheer need coursing through me.

Declan positions himself at my entrance, the tip of his cock nudging against me, teasing but never pushing. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?" His voice is gentle, reverent almost. "If it's too much, you tell me."

I nod again, my heart racing, every part of me on edge. When he finally begins to push in, the stretch is overwhelming. My body fights the intrusion at first, instinctively tensing, but then I remember his words—breathe. I force myself to exhale, my fingers digging into the sheets as I open up to him.

It's slow—agonizingly slow—and for a moment, I'm not sure I can handle it. But then I feel him pause, his breath shaky as he stills halfway inside me. "You're so fucking tight," he rasps, the strain in his voice mirroring my own. "God, Savion…"

I bite my lip, nodding again, letting him know I'm okay. The stretch is still there, the burn of something unfamiliar, but I want this. I want him.

"Keep going," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "Don't stop."

Declan lets out a breath, his hands gripping my hips as he slowly, inch by inch, sinks deeper inside me. By the time he's fully seated, we're both trembling, our bodies pressed together in a way that feels exposed, intimate. There's no pain now, just a sense of fullness, of connection.

He stays still for a long moment, his forehead resting against the back of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "You okay?"

I nod, the tension melting from my body as I adjust to the feeling of him inside me. "Yeah," I breathe, my voice shaky but sure. "I'm okay."

His hand slides up my side, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin as he begins to move, slow and careful, his thrusts shallow at first. The friction is intense, a mix of pleasure and pressure, and it sends sparks through my nerves, making me gasp.

"God, you feel… perfect," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

I can't speak, can't do anything but feel—feel the way he fills me, the way he moves inside me like he was made for me. There's a vulnerability to it, something raw and tender that I didn't expect. I've never felt this close to anyone, never been this open, this exposed.

But with Declan… it feels right. Perfect.

And as he holds me, as he moves inside me with a care that makes my chest ache, I realize I've never felt more complete.

Then the discomfort fades, replaced by something else—something that steals the breath from my lungs. The slow, steady glide of him inside me becomes a source of heat, of pleasure, that grows with each measured thrust. I didn't expect to feel this connected to someone, to him. It's physical—but it's also something more, like we're learning a new language together.

I gasp as his hips roll against mine, a little harder, and my back arches into him, chasing the sensation. His hands grip my waist tighter, grounding me, guiding me as he whispers my name like a prayer.

"Savion," he breathes, voice thick with want. "You feel… so fucking perfect."

I want to tell him the same—that he's perfect, that I've never felt anything like this before. But all I can do is moan his name, gasping out syllables as our bodies move in sync, chasing that edge together. His touch, his voice, the stars above us—all of it blurs into a single moment of need and connection.

With each thrust, I feel the tension coil tighter inside me, my body trembling as I reach for something just out of grasp. Then it snaps—blinding, overwhelming, every muscle in my body clenching as I fall apart beneath him. My vision whites out, and all I can feel is him, the sound of his ragged breaths mixing with mine.

Declan follows me over the edge moments later, his body collapsing against mine, his weight comforting as he holds me close. We're both trembling, gasping for breath, the cool desert air mingling with the heat between us. For a long time, neither of us speaks. We just lie there, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond us falling away.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, full of concern, and I feel his fingers brush a lock of hair away from my forehead.

I nod, still catching my breath. "Better than okay."

Declan's lips curve into a smile, his eyes soft as he looks down at me. "Good. Because I fucking love you, Savion."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. My heart stutters, then speeds up, and I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face.

I was wrong when I said I was falling for this man; I've already fallen. And I can see myself falling for him over and over again.

"I love you too, Declan."

And just like that, beneath the stars, everything feels right. Nothing else matters but this moment, but us.