“These are stories too,” she whispered. “Stories of survival. Of strength.” She looked up at him, her eyes hooded, pupils blown wide. “Of a man who could have given up but has decided to live.”
His voice was a raspy whisper and he breathed, “Sadie…”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “Bed?”
“God, yes.”
They moved together, her sweater finally joining his shirt on the floor, and the sight of her in the moonlight made his mouth go dry. All that creamy, pale skin he’d imagined more times than he cared to admit was more beautiful than any description he could craft.
“You’re staring,” she said, but there was pleased warmth in her voice.
“I’m committing every detail to memory,” he told her, allowing a devilish half smile to tug at his lips.
He pressed her into the bed, but when he moved to cover her body with his own, his left hand gave out on him—trembling, then buckling beneath even that slight pressure. The familiar flash of frustration burned through him, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Damn it,” he breathed, his jaw tightening as he shifted his weight.
When Sadie’s eyes met his, though, he saw no pity in them, only understanding.
“Here,” she whispered, moving deliberately until his stronger side could bear most of his weight, her body arching to meet his. “Better?”
“Perfect,” he said, and meant it. It would be different than before, but she was here, warm and willing beneath him, and that was all that mattered.
He lowered his mouth to her throat while maintaining this position; no longer merely receiving but participating in their dance of desire. Her pulse fluttered under his lips, and when he nipped the spot where neck met shoulder, she gasped.
“Still good?” he asked, hyperaware of his weight, his balance.
“Better than good,” she breathed, her hands mapping the mostly unmarked skin along his back. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He took his time learning her—every detail of her body—a slow exploration filled with soft sighs and sharp intakes of breath as they teased one another’s skin with their fingers and tongues. He marveled at the tender spot behind her ear that made her sigh when his lips brushed it, and the curve of her collarbone that had her arching her back when he gently bit down. His body might move differently now, requiring thought where there once was instinct, but it still wanted her with an intensity that almost frightened him.
They undressed each other with care; each new expanse of skin revealed felt like a gift. When nothing remained between them, he paused, braced above her on his good arm, drinking in the sight of her in the moonlight.
His voice was rough with want when he asked, “Are you sure?”
She pulled him down for a kiss that left no room for doubt, and then whispered against his lips, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Still, he held back, his forehead pressed to hers.
“Are you?” she asked this time, her eyes searching his face.
“Completely.”
“If something hurts, if a position isn’t working, you tell me immediately,” Sadie said, her hands framing his face. “No suffering in silence, no pushing through pain. We’re in this together, which means you have to trust me enough to be honest.”
He swallowed hard. The vulnerability of it, the partnership she was offering, he had never expected to find someone who made him feel like this again. And if by some miracle he did, he had certainly never expected they would want him in return.
“I promise.”
The faith in her eyes undid him. When he finally joined with her, he watched her face for any sign of discomfort or regret. Instead, he found desire and something that looked very much like love.
They moved together, taking their time exploring what worked. When the skin along his ribs protested a certain angle, she shifted with him without comment. For weeks, they had been building toward this moment, and he intended to savor every touch and every feeling.
“You’re thinking too hard,” she murmured at one point, her fingers brushing the hair away from his eyes.
“I want this to be good for you,” he admitted, hips stilling for a moment.
“Corbyn.” She kissed him quietly. “You’re here. You’re with me. Trust me, it’s already good.”
