She hesitates, then asks, “Did you love any of them?” Her eyes fall to the empty cot between us as she waits for my answer.
I shake my head again, and the truth comes out without hesitation. “No. Never.” Reaching forward, I slide my hand along her jaw until I’m cupping her cheek. I swipe my thumb, wiping away her tears. “There were other women after you, Reese,” I admit quietly, “but I couldn’t love them… Because none of them wereyou.”
Her breath stutters, and it ghosts against my skin. When she looks up, her eyes find mine, full of tears and something dangerously close to forgiveness.
Something inside me breaks, something I’ve kept buried under years of discipline and denial. I should pull back. I should end this here before it goes any further, before I do something I can’t take back. But she looks at me like she used to—like I’m still home and all our broken pieces fit together perfectly—and I’m lost.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I kissher.
It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every unsent message and sleepless night. Every ache of regret churning into what feels like a lifetime of need. She tastes like the past and present colliding. Her hands fist in my shirt, drawing me closer, and all the walls I’ve spent years building come crashing down.
The sound of her breath fills the space between us, shallow and uneven. When she kisses me back, I swear she’s shaking. Not from fear, but from everything she’s holding in.
The years apart disappear in a heartbeat. My hands move on instinct, tracing the curve of her waist, refamiliarizing myself with the body I still know by heart. She feels the same, familiar in a way that makes me ache. She feels likemine…
I pull back, both of us panting. With our foreheads resting together and labored breaths wafting over each other’s lips, I manage to whisper, “We shouldn’t…”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Chris.” Tightening her hold on my shirt and pulling me back into her, her lips vibrate against mine. “I know exactly what we’re doing…”
But she doesn’t.
I’ve spent years pretending I could live without this. Withouther.Pretending that distance was the same as peace. But here, now, with her breath mingling with mine and her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips, I know it was all a lie. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk away from her again.
My heart pounds so hard it hurts. I cup her face, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth before replacing it with my lips. Her lips part against mine, and I catch the faintsound of her shaky, desperate breaths. My tongue eases into her mouth, and the taste of her pulls me under.
With my arms snaked around her, I drag her body onto my lap as my tongue plunders her mouth. She melts into my hold, her hands slide up my chest and over my shoulders like she’s relearning me piece by piece. Her hands grip the back of my neck, daring me to kiss her harder. Daring me to take this further.
Chris’s mouth moves against mine, and my resistance softens around the edges. His arms wrap around my waist, dragging me further up his thighs as the cot creaks under us in protest.
His hands trail down my arms, finding my wrists, guiding them gently around his neck. My nails drag lightly through the fabric of his shirt at the base of his neck. As I slide over his broad shoulders, I gather the cotton into my hand. He pulls back from our kiss, the hard angles of his face now softened and tender. My fingers curl into the material at the middle of his back, tugging gently but firmly, lifting the shirt over his head.
The first glimpse of him causes my breath to catch in my throat. His skin is bronzed and smooth, glowing softly in the dim light. Black ink twists and curls across every inch of exposed skin, swirling over his muscles like living art. With my palms flat on his firm chest, I glide them over his muscular frame, feeling his heart drumming beneath them. Following the curve of his broad shoulders, my eyes traveldown his strong, powerful arms around my waist. My gaze lands on his abs, rippled, defined, and carved by years of hard work and discipline. The tattoos wind around the contours, dipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
His large hands gather the hem of my shirt, bunching it at my hips. He pauses, shooting me a timid yet mischievous smirk, like he’s asking for permission without saying a word. I don’t hesitate, lifting my arms into the air and offering myself without a single doubt. When he dips his fingers beneath the fabric, his warm palms slide up my sides, taking the shirt with them. The cotton flutters against my skin as he works it over my head, leaving me naked on his lap.
Crashing his lips against mine, he pulls me in deeper. With the warmth of his body radiating against mine, our chests rise and fall in tandem with our heavy breaths. He shifts his weight, and his cock presses against me through his sweatpants. My pussy flutters in response, needing him in ways I never thought I would again.
My fingers reach between us, and I grip the waistband and tug it just enough to allow his thick, veiny length to spring free. His hands tighten around my waist, lifting me enough to position his cock against my entrance. I take my time lowering over him, my body slowly stretching to accommodate him, remembering exactly how we fit together.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathlessly grits with his fingers digging into my hips like he’s physically holding onto his restraint. “Let Daddy in. Let me fill your perfect little pussy.” He pulls lightly, dragging me over the last few inches of him. Bottoming out, a low growl rattles from his chest andvibrates against the side of my neck. The sound shoots a shiver down my spine that tingles straight to my core.
I sit with my legs straddling his lap and his cock buried to the hilt inside of me. I flex my hips to ride him, but his rough hands hold me in place. Trying again, I’m met with the same resistance as he kisses up and down the length of my neck. He presses his lips to the shell of my ear and teasingly exhales, “Did your pussy miss Daddy?”
“Yes…”
“Good.” He swirls his hips beneath me, grinding himself against my core. “I’ve spent far too many nights dreaming about being inside you again. I don’t plan to rush this.” His hands slide around my hips until his large palms are cupping my ass. Using his hold, he works me over him at a torturously slow pace.
“I’ve missed this,” I whisper, swirling my hips in tempo with him. “I’ve missedyou.” The words surprise me as they pass over my lips. I thought I was over Chris. That he didn’t mean anything to me anymore. From the moment I saw him again, I knew I’d been lying to myself. But now, with him buried inside of me, it isn’t just sex I want. It’s him.And that’s fucking terrifying.
With his fingers tangling in my hair, he drags my face toward his, stopping a breath from my lips before confessing, “Every fucking day. Even when I pretended I didn’t, I missed you every fucking day.”
His lips press to mine with a softness that takes my breath away, as if he’s afraid to break the fragile moment. The kiss starts slow—delicate and almost tentative—before deepening with a hunger that’s been held back for far toolong. His tongue traces mine gently, exploring with a tenderness that speaks of everything left unsaid and every night spent apart.
Without breaking our kiss, he lays me onto the bed as he climbs over me. He shoves his sweatpants lower as he settles between my thighs. His lips break from mine, trailing over my jaw and down to my neck as he slowly thrusts the entirety of himself back inside me. “Chris…” His name spills over my lips as every nerve in my body shoots to life.
He pulls nearly out of me before inching himself back in to the hilt. He repeats the languid thrust as he kisses the length of my neck. “No, baby…” He retreats again but slams back into me so hard my eyes roll back, and incoherent feral moans rattle from me. “You call me Daddy when I make you come.” I open my mouth to speak, but he drives deep again as he starts relentlessly pounding into me.
My fingers tangle in the sheets beside my head, fisting them as he takes me hard and fast. Every thrust bringing me closer to the edge, hurtling me toward it so quickly, I couldn’t stop from falling over the edge if I tried.Not that I want to. I’m several thrusts from coming when he growls against my throat, “Is my good girl going to come for me?”
