“Fuck, you're perfect.” My teeth graze her throat, dragging down to her collarbone. “You always were the best thing I ever had. The only thing.”
Her legs lock around me, heels pressing into my back. She’s close. I feel it in the way her body clenches, the way her breath hitches. Just like it used to.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps, voice cracking, nails clawing at my shoulders. “Woody, please, right there. Don’t stop.”
Her body arches against mine, desperate, clinging.
“It’s always been you,” I rasp, the confession ripped from me as my thrusts lose rhythm. “Only you, Lane. Always you.”
Her eyes squeeze shut, a sound breaking loose from her chest as she shatters in my arms. Her release tears through her, hot and tight around me, dragging me under with her. I groan her name, my forehead pressed to hers, and give in, losing myself in her like I never stopped knowing how.
The world narrows to skin, sweat, the sharp salt of tears we don’t speak of. It’s messy, it’s desperate, but it’s ours.
When the tremors fade, I kiss her slowly, softer, as if I’m afraid of breaking her again. She doesn’t pull away. She kisses me back, lingering, lips trembling but sure.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “Ahhh…”
Her fingers trace the back of my neck, hesitant but tender. No words. Just touch.
I pull her close, lifting her from the couch even as my legs shake. She’s light in my arms, her face pressed to my chest. I pull off the condom and throw it onto my heap of clothes on the floor.
I stand and scoop her into my arms, carrying her down the hall to the bedroom, each step deliberate, as if putting her in bed this time means something more than the years of distance ever could.
I toss the pillows on the floor, pull down the comforter with one hand, for us to collapse together onto the mattress. I pull her against me, her hair damp against my skin, her breathing slow but uneven.
My body still hums from the force ofwhat we did, but it’s the sense of her here, in my arms again, that undoes me most.
The sheets are cool against my skin, a contrast to the heat still radiating between us. Moonlight filters through the curtains, catching on her hair, the familiar scent of gardenias surrounding me.
I brush a strand from her face, my hand lingering on her cheek. “You’ve always had a hold on me. No one else ever has.”
The words scrape close to the truth I’ve been biting back.I love you.I’ve loved you through all of it. The thought claws up my throat, but I choke it down, afraid it will sound like weakness, like heat-of-the-moment madness instead of the bedrock it really is.
Her eyes find mine, wide, steady. “I wish that were true.”
Something inside me snaps. My hand presses firmer against her cheek. “It is true. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
So much for holding back.
The urgency we left on the couch gives way to something slower, deeper. My fingers trail from her neck to the curve of her breast, relearning what I never forgot. She arches into me, breath stuttering, her body answering mine.
“Woody,” she whispers, my name soft and unguarded, like it belongs only to her.
I bend, kissing her again, this time unhurried. No desperation. No rush. Just the truth of us, finally breaking through.
Lane’s hands roam my shoulders, nails grazing, claiming me in a way that's both brand-new and achingly familiar. She shifts closer, lips brushing my jaw.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, softer now. “I want you again.”
Her words undo me. I want nothing more than to sink back into her, but reality cuts through the haze. I press a kiss to her jaw and mutter, “Give me one second.”
She blinks up at me, flushed and confused, as I push off the bed. “Condoms in my wallet. Which is… in the living room.”
A shaky laugh escapes her. “That’s a hell of a mood killer.”
“Worth the trip,” I promise, one leg already on the floor.
But her hand shoots out, curling around my wrist, tugging me back down. Her eyes lock on mine, glassy with heat but steady. “Don’t go,” she whispers. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
