I touch his face, wishing he wasn’t worried about not being enough. My mouth opens. Then I shut it, because I don’t think this is something that can be fixed by a simple conversation. It’ll take a lot of sunrises in this bed together, a lot of sunsets on the back porch. Healing takes time. I might not have gone through what he did, but I know that well enough.
I grip his lapel, pulling him in. He hesitates then kisses me deep. His tongue brushes mine, and I sink into something easier to understand—the deep need to have him as mine. My hands work, unbuttoning his shirt. He pulls my dress over my head, sliding down my bra on one side to bare my breast. His fingers are so deliciously rough, and one hand slides down the sensitive underside of my arm. He bends his head, hot mouth closing over my nipple. I arch, head spinning.
Then, in an abrupt movement, he releases my breast and kisses down my bare stomach. I have a half second, my fingers raking through his hair as he pulls my jeans and panties off. Then, he buries his head between my thighs, licking from my pussy to my clit, flicking it with his tongue. Usually, I need to be warmed up a little before he goes in like that, but tonight, feeling how bad he wants me already has my heart pounding, heat pooling between my thighs.
The room spins, wavering as my fingers close tight in his hair.
One hand grips my thigh, pressing me open as far as he can get me, and his tongue slides into my pussy.
God—oh, that has my spine arching, my eyes rolling back. I squirm, overwhelmed, but he keeps me still, fucking me with his tongue, curling the tip to graze the place where I feel the most. Then, with a gruff moan in his chest, he pulls it out, pressing two fingers into its place. His tongue drags up to my clit, and his fingers work as his tongue moves over it in quick strokes. A hot, desperate twinge moves through my hips, blossoming into that feeling. I know it’s coming, like an inevitable wave.
It breaks, like a sweat across my skin. Then, he’s up, shoving my legs open and dipping his body to push inside me. I’m tight, tensing, releasing with pleasure as his cock sinks deep inside. It’s an abrupt entrance, but there’s no pain, just visceral pleasure that thrums down my core, making my brain hum in satisfaction.
It’s a shift, a fitting together of two pieces of the world.
Before him, I would have said sex was a physical act. It never dug this deep or broke me open before him. He slides his hand beneath me, pulling me into his chest. I have one hand on his chest, one arm wrapped around his neck. My mouth finds his, and he breathes out sharply, his breath flooding my lungs.
My leg curls around his thigh, locking in. The space between us is only big enough for our heartbeats. And it goes on and on until we’re both exhausted, tangled up in the sheets, trailing our fingertips over sweaty skin.
I want this. Forever.
I sleep hard, so hard I have to peel my face off the pillow when I wake up. Rolling over, I search and find him. He’s up against the pillows, head leaning against the wall with his eyes on the window. Early sun glows just above the mountains. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but I’m just glad he’s above the ground, sunlight and my fingerprints on his warm skin. He was made to live gently, slowly, like the birds of the field.
I push myself up just enough to lay my cheek on his thigh. His fingers graze my hair, brushing it back.
“I don’t want to get up,” I whisper.
“Don’t,” he says. “We can stay like this for a while.”
We’re both quiet.
“Maybe forever,” he says finally.
There’s a soft soaring sensation in my chest. This is one of those moments when I don’t need to answer. It’s better if I don’t. We both know it’s too early to be saying things like that, but I know he’s thinking them too. I was just hoping he’d crack and say them out loud, and he did.
“Do you want to meet my parents?” I say.
“I think I have,” he says, amused.
“No, like meet my parents. As my…person.”
“Girlfriend,” he says, almost testing out the word. “Is that alright?”
“Being called your girlfriend?” I nod, looking up at him. “More than alright.”
From the kitchen comes a sharp yap and toenails scraping the floor. Daisy is ready to be let out. I sit up, and his arm slides around my waist, pulling me in. For a moment, there’s nothing but warm sunshine through the window and his mouth on mine, kissing me softly, his hands in my hair. Then, he releases me, giving me a little slap on the ass. Drunk on him, I stumble into the kitchen to get Daisy.
I’m on the porch when he appears, a cup of coffee in each hand. Daisy rolls in the dirt at the bottom of the steps, chewing on a frayed stick.
I take a cup. He sinks down at my side.
The sun is just cresting over the mountains. Inside, I’m a little disappointed by the way things went down in the city, but I’m not disappointed that it put me back here, with him.
He slides a hand around my waist, pulling me against his side. Neither of us speak. It's a comfortable silence until the bell rings for breakfast and he has to leave for work. I go inside and start loading his dishwasher. He comes down in his work clothes and kisses me goodbye. Then, as I stand there at the sink, he takes the trash out with him as he goes.
I smile, knowing that while it’s a tiny little thing, it means an awful lot to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
