"Can I tell you that I haven't stopped loving you?" he asked, digging his fingers into my hip. "Not once? Not even when Ineededto stop loving you more than I needed anything else in the world?"
"Tell me." I dropped my head to his shoulder, brushed my lips over the pulse hammering in his throat. "Tell me all of it."
"I've never loved anyone else and I hated you for keeping me for yourself," he said, the words hoarse. "I hated that you walked away but I couldn't leave you."
My belly swooped and a fresh new rush of blazing heat moved through me. I watched as the muscles in his arms and shoulders pulsed with every thrust. His jaw ticked and I had to lift a hand to his face just to feel it under my fingers.
Everything inside me seemed to gather and twist. My back arched off the washing machine as my inner walls tightened, giving a painful throb. I'd do anything to come right now. Anything at all.
"I love you too," I said. "Always have."
"Say it again."
"I love you," I said, my body quivering now. "I never stopped."
He met my eyes as he rocked into me once more. "I know."
Some orgasms were explosions. Some were like getting caught in the barrel of a wave. But then there were some that unraveled like a ball of yarn that slipped out of your hands and down a flight of stairs—and those were the most devastating because they started slow but stretched on until there was nothing left.
All I could do was press my mouth to his neck and dig my fingers into his skin and hope he understood that anything that might've stood between us was gone. All those years, everything we'd thought to be true—shattered.
He growled something that I was too slow and woozy to understand and then I felt him swell and surge inside me. We stayed there, gasping and shaking and clinging to each other. My head was full of white noise and my backside was pancakedagainst the washing machine. I'd probably wear an imprint of the logo on my upper right butt cheek for the next week.
"I don't know if I'm allowed to say this," Jude started.
"Then you're probably not."
He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together and sliding our joined palms between our bodies. He traced where he still pulsed inside me. I shuddered when he painted my folds and my clit with his release. "This feels so much better than I ever remembered."
"We barely knew what we were doing back then," I said. "I mean, the only objective was doing it without getting caught. Not a lot of technique involved."
He went on stroking me as he considered this, his cock still buried inside me and rearranging my organs. "Does that mean it wasn't good for you?"
"I remember it being good," I said. "But I like that we're better at it now. And that we don't have to sneak around."
"Wearebetter at it." He gave my backside a light slap. "But you're amazing. When I'm inside you, it's so good that I can't think. It feels like you're stealing something from me but I don't mind because I want you to take it. Take all of it, everything. Suck me dry."
I huffed out a laugh. "That's just because we don't need condoms anymore."
"No, Audrey. It's because I fucking love you and I've been waiting to get you back for a literal fucking decade and now that I have you, the only place I want to be is inside you. It's because no one will ever be able to convince me that we weren't made for each other. That we fit right here"—he pressed my palm hard against my mound—"better than anyone else ever could. And we fit here"—he rested his forehead against mine—"better than anyone else. It's because I touch you and I feel like I know how to exist in this world. Like I'm awake and alive again."
I nodded because yes, that was the truth of it, even if I'd avoided finding that reflection in the mirror for weeks. I kissed the corner of his mouth. I didn't think I could say anything and even if I did, it wouldn't be adequate.
But I knew there was no going back now. We weren't the same people who argued in that bathroom at the reunion and we weren't the same ones who'd shared a bed in that terrifying motel room. We weren't even the same as we were last night.
And what a relief that was.
A knock sounded on the door and then the voice from Percy's tablet asked, "Are you guys in there?"
Our eyes locked. Jude cleared his throat. "Yeah, we're just—we're fixing something," he called. "Why don't you go upstairs and hang out with Bagel? We'll be up in a minute."
"He's sleeping," the tablet announced.
"Okay, well, hold on and we'll be there soon," Jude said, glancing at the discarded clothes all around us. He set me down, holding my waist as I found my footing. "We just need to put something back together."
"Can I help?" Percy asked.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed as we scrambled to pull on clothes. "Not this time, pal. You don't have the right safety gear for this one."
