I like him. I trust him as much as I trust anyone alive. I want him here with me. In my bed.
He was completely vulnerable with me last night, and he’s still with me this morning.
Iwanthim here.
I always want him here.
Maybe I should send him away, but I won’t.
“Kat,” he mumbles, his face tucked into the crook of my neck.
“Yes.”
“Y’okay?”
For some reason, the mumbled question constricts my chest. Squeezes my heart. “Of course I’m okay. I’m always fine, remember?”
“You’re way better than fine.” He’s mostly awake now, although he hasn’t lifted his head. “Thanks for last night. Sorry ’bout the breakdown.”
“I don’t care about the breakdown. You should have broken down a long time ago.”
He finally raises his head enough to peer down at me. “You’re not gonna run?”
“Why would I run?”
“’Cause it’s gettin’ heavy. Real. Thought you might run.”
“I’m home. I’ve got nowhere to run to.”
“Then I thought you might kick me out.” His expression is relaxed, almost teasing, but his eyes are still searching my face, trying to see into my soul.
I sigh and reach up to cup his jaw, feel his scratchy beard. “I’m not going to kick you out.”
“You’re not?”
He looks so hopeful it startles me, so I add quickly, “Not today anyway.”
He huffs out a laugh and leans down to kiss me gently. “Okay. I’ll take today.”
When he withdraws and starts to roll off me, something inside me resists. I grab him, pulling him down into another kiss.
This one is deeper, lasts longer. Micah is fully invested immediately, sliding his tongue into my mouth and shifting so he’s lying between my legs. After a minute, he’s hard against me, and we rock together to the rhythm of the kiss.
We haven’t had sex since I got shot. But my arm is only faintly itching right now, as long as I don’t stretch it too much. I leave it extended to the side so it doesn’t get in the way.
After a while, Micah kisses his way down my body until he’s nuzzling between my thighs. He brings me to orgasm with his lips and tongue. Then I pull him back up so we can kiss again, and together we align his cock at my entrance so he can slide in.
Our fucking starts slow and steady so we can continue the kiss. But soon he’s urgent. And his obvious need for me awakens the matching need in my own heart. Because this—what we’re doing right now—feels like more than physical pleasure.
It feels like the embodiment of one truth I simply can’t escape or deny.
We’re together. For real. All the way.
And that’s never not going to be true.
He’s choking out my name as he mounts toward climax, pushing into me with a fast, carnal motion. I’m getting close too—making soft little grunts as my pleasure builds again—but he falls out of rhythm before I get there.
I don’t care. I love how desperately he pulls out his cock and squeezes himself through several hard spurts of release, leaving the evidence all over my belly and breasts.
