Eventually, Janie found the energy to move, and she shifted so she could look at Hannah. Her eyes were shiny, and she was clearly on the edge of crying. Janie kissed each of her eyelids, acknowledging Hannah’s vulnerability without bringing verbal attention to it. Hannah blinked, and a stray tear escaped. Janie thumbed it away gently. “Your turn,” she said.
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Since when do we take turns?”
“Since today.” Janie tugged her closer and draped her leg over Hannah’s hip. “Or maybe never again. But right now, I need to. I need to make you feel what you just made me feel.” She pushed Hannah onto her back, and Hannah let out a moan. It was small, almost nothing, but in their intimate language, it was practically a shouted declaration of Hannah’s desire. “Let metake care of you,” Janie whispered, and Hannah nodded.
Janie took her time, re-learning Hannah’s body: the dip of her waist, the sharp jut of her hip bones, the way her breath stuttered when Janie ghosted her hand over Hannah’s ribs. Minutes later, when Janie finally slid her hand between Hannah’s legs, Hannah pushed her hips upward to greet her, and the sound she made was desperate, so delightfully desperate and dripping with desire.
“I’ve missed this,” Janie said, sliding her fingers through Hannah’s wetness. “I love making you feel this way.”
Hannah took Janie’s free hand and laced their fingers together. “I love you making me feel this way.”
Janie worked her slowly, carefully, watching for every reaction, every tell. She knew Hannah’s body as well as she knew her own, knew exactly how to touch her, where to press, when to speed up or slow down. All of it rushed back to her. But this time was different, like Janie was rediscovering Hannah and claiming something precious that had almost been lost.
Hannah’s eyes locked on Janie’s face, the weight of her gaze like a physical presence. There was trust there, and love, and a kind of desperate hope that made Janie’s chest ache.
“I love you,” Janie said, her thumb finding Hannah’s clit, circling with the pressure she needed.
Janie added another finger, and Hannah arched off the bed with a gasp. Janie kissed her with the same desperate hope still lingering in Hannah’s half-lidded gaze. She infused it with everything they’d been through and everything they were rebuilding, tried hard to calm Hannah’s fears and her own, though they’d quieted in the aftermath of her climax.
Hannah came with Janie’s name on her lips, her whole body tensing and then releasing, and a fierce pride and gratitude washed over Janie. This strong, beautiful, imperfect woman was hers. They were each other’s.
When Hannah’s breathing finally evened out, Janie carefully withdrew her hand and cuddled into Hannah’s side, pressing herglowing body to Hannah’s equally sweaty one. Hannah wrapped her arm around her and held her close, and they lay there in silence, just breathing. Just being.
“That was...” Hannah whispered.
“Yeah. That was something.” Janie didn’t have the words either, and really, did they need them? It was the feelings, the residual connection that mattered so much more than labeling what they’d just done and how they’d come together again.
“Are you okay?”
Janie considered the question seriously.Wasshe okay? The depression was still there, of course. The weight in her chest hadn’t magically disappeared, despite the mind-blowing orgasm. The fear about the custody hearing was still there, adding more pressure. The guilt about Chloe and the ER visit was hanging around too, though maybe slightly less crushing than before.
But underneath all of that, there was something new. Or maybe not new. Maybe it was just something she’d forgotten resided inside her. Hope, and connection, and the bone-deep certainty that she wasn’t alone. And she hadn’t been since she’d met Hannah. “I’m not perfect. And as amazing as you were just now,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows, “I’m not healed. But I am okay.” She snuggled in closer. “I’m better than okay.”
“Good.” Hannah kissed the top of Janie’s head. “Because I need you to know that wasn’t just physical for me. This wasn’t just about reconnecting sexually.”
Janie frowned. “I know.”
“Do you?” Hannah shifted so she could look at Janie’s face. “Because I need you to really understand that I see you, Janie. And not just as the mother of my children, though you’re so wonderful at that job. But asyou. As my wife and partner. As the woman I want to spend my life with.”
Fresh tears spilled over, and Janie let them fall once more. “I thought I’d lost that. I missed you seeing me that way.”
“You didn’t lose it.Ilost sight of it for a while. But I’m going tokeep seeing you every day. Even on the hard days, and when the depression is bad, and when we’re exhausted, and the girls are driving us crazy. I’m going to make sure you know that I see you, and I promise never to stop again.”
“What if I can’t always see myself?” Janie asked quietly, giving voice to the rising worry in her mind. “What if the depression doesn’t get better with the meds? What if I have days where I can’t remember why I’m worth fighting for?”
“Then I’ll remember for both of us.” Hannah cupped Janie’s face and thumbed away her tears. “I’ll remind you every single day if I have to. You’re worth it, Janie. You’re worth every fight, every hard conversation, every moment of doubt. You’re worth everything to me. You always have been, and you always will be.”
Janie kissed her, soft and slow, and full of hope for what they were rebuilding. When they pulled apart, Hannah grinned widely.
“You know what I just realized?” Hannah asked.
“What?”
“We have an entire hotel room to ourselves. No kids who might wake up. No responsibilities until tomorrow. We could order room service. Take a bath. Make love again. Or just sleep for a little while.”
Janie ran her finger over Hannah’s lips. “Just sleeping with you sounds perfect.”
“Yeah?”
