I need it.
He rolls away, reaches for my nightstand, and quickly sheaths himself with a condom.
And then he’s back, supporting his weight on his forearms and staring into my eyes. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"I love you," he says, his eyes locked on mine. "I need you to know that."
"I know." I cup his face. "I love you, too. Even when you're an idiot. I’m sorry to freak out. I’m trying to do better.”
"I’ll do better. We both will.”
He pushes into me slowly. We both groan at the sensation. It's been two days, but it feels like forever.
"God, Sutton." His forehead drops to mine. "You feel so good."
"Move," I breathe. "Please, Declan, move."
He does, establishing a rhythm that's both familiar and new. Slow and deep, each thrust deliberate. This isn't just sex. This is reconnection. Reconciliation.
This is us finding our way back to each other.
He’s ruined me for any other.
It’s him.
It’s always been him.
My nails dig into his shoulders as the pleasure builds. His mouth finds mine before pulling away and sucking at that sensitive spot just below my ear. He sucks so hard I know he’s going to leave a mark.
Am I too old for hickeys?
"Everyone's going to know," I gasp.
"Good." He lifts his head to look at me. "Let them know. Let everyone know you're mine."
The possessiveness in his voice sends heat coursing through me. "Yours?"
"Mine." He punctuates the word with a particularly deep thrust that makes me cry out. "Say it."
"I'm yours." My back arches off the bed.
The combination of his words, his touch, and the angle of his thrusts pushes me over the edge. I come apart around him, pleasure crashing through me in waves. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my scream, tasting salt and skin.
He follows seconds later, groaning my name as he finds his release.
He collapses on top of me. Every inch of his body pressed against mine.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight. I don’t ever want to let him go.
We lie there tangled together, both of us breathing hard. His heart pounds against my chest, matching my own racing rhythm.
"Are we okay?" He lifts his head to look at me. "Really okay?"
I brush the hair back from his forehead. "We are.”
He kisses me softly. "I'm going to show you that you can trust me."
"Good."
