Her hands land on my thighs behind her as she arches her back, seeking out more pleasure. This has become her favorite position in the last week. All she wants is to sit on top of me. And I fucking love it too, because I get to stare at her and watch her beautiful tits bounce with her movements. I get to experience her face turn into shock every time her orgasm rocks her. And I get to feel her love pulsing through me with every thrust, every moan.
“Eli, it feels so good. Too good.”
“No, baby, it’s never too good,” I answer as I help her rock her hips. She’s been more tired lately but never tired enough to not connect with me on this level.
“Oh . . . oh, Eli. I . . .” Her pussy clenches around my cock, and my orgasm hits me square in the chest, unexpectedly.
“Fuck,” I yell as I squeeze my eyes shut and pump into her, my body filled with pleasure.
And together, we slowly float down until she’s lying on her side, curled into me, kissing my chest.
“I love this, us,” she says. “So much, and I’m so worried that when the baby comes, it will be gone.”
“What?” I say, lifting up to look her in the eyes. “Penny, why would you think that?”
“Insecurities,” she answers. “Don’t you have them?”
“I do,” I say, “but babe, you have to know I’m not going anywhere. I’m not sure how many times I have to say that.”
“Maybe every day,” she answers.
“Then I’ll say it every day.” I kiss her nose and then lie back down to pull her into my chest.
“What are your insecurities?” she asks, her fingers dancing along my chest, playing with the very short strands of my chest hair. It’s been a while since I’ve had a waxing appointment, but she’s told me she likes my chest hair, so I’ve kept it.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.” She nuzzles into my neck. My hand finds the back of her head where I play with her hair.
“Not being good enough for you.”
“Come on, Eli,” she says in such a tone that makes me think she doesn’t believe me.
“I’m fucking serious,” I reply. “I’ve thought that from day fucking one. The first time I met you, Penny, I knew you were way out of my league. Not just because you were Pacey’s sister but also because you were this intelligent, funny, beautiful woman who I wanted more than a few minutes with. When I saw you at the bar on my birthday, I fucking knew that was my moment to talk to you. And I did. I was not going to go through the night without spending time with you.”
“Eli, I was such a mess that night.”
“You were so goddamn perfect, Penny. You have no idea the kind of energy you brought that night. It was authentic, and I fucking loved every moment of it. After that night, I felt . . . fuck, I felt empty, like I was missing something. And I slowly realized it was you. You were what I craved, what I needed in my life. And when I saw you walking around the arena, talking to the guys, barely even looking in my direction, I knew . . . I wasn’t fucking good enough.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t like you, Eli. It was because of what we did.”
“I still felt insecure around you. Not because of anything you did, but measuring up to you and the love and empathy you pour out of you. Fuck, I felt lucky to even catch a glimpse of your beautiful eyes. And even now, holding you in my arms, I know I’m lucky, I know I don’t deserve you, I know that I fucking hit the jackpot even when you’re insane and painting weird things on the baby’s wall, planting God knows what in my loafer, and desecrating significant pictures.”I am not going to mention her crazy mood swings.
She chuckles. “Don’t call a pregnant lady insane.”
I sigh and squeeze her.
There have been times when I’ve wanted to call her more than insane. But then I consider the many nights she’s gotten home before me and cooked dinner, despite being tired from a busy day. The times she’s checked in to see how I am after my morning skate when she knew my knee had been in pain the night before. The moments we’ve had on the couch—before we were fucking all over said couch—simply watching a damn TV show to make sure I was relaxed before I tried to sleep after a game. Those things are just as sacrificial as what I’ve done for her, but she could have made little effort to get to know me over the past few months. She could have kicked me out of her apartment—or at least tried—but she didn’t.
Yet I can’t find the words to express what she means to me.“I wish I could be better for you.”
“You are, Eli.” I shake my head.
And then I sit up on my elbow, so I’m looking down at her. “I know that you’re waiting for me to say those three little words, what you’ve said to me.”
“That I love you?” she asks, her tone easy, unfazed.
Me, on the other hand.
