I ride him with everything I have. Every wound, every want, every shadow of the girl who waited for him to come home.
His hands guide my hips, his lips brush my throat, and when my body starts to shake again, he presses a hand to my chest, right over my heart.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I love you.”
When my climax peaks, I take him with me. His moan splinters against my mouth as he releases deep inside me, clutching so tightly, afraid the world will tear us apart for good.
But it doesn’t. Not yet.
It’s just us.
Shuddering. Spent. Entwined.
And for a second frozen in time, nothing’s broken. Nothing’s lost.
We’re exactly where we belong.
***
Late-afternoon sunlight spills across the bedspread as I lie beneath him, naked, writhing, glazed with sweat and bliss. We’ve been insatiable. Minutes shifted into hours, and when we finally made it to the bedroom, we never left, the time lost to kisses, sex, cuddling, catnaps, and more sex. I’ve savored every moment, begging for each one to span infinite measures and lifetimes.
I can’t lose him; I can’t think about losing him.
So I’ve lost myself instead. In his body, his words, his love.
It’s all I can do.
Collapsing backward on the bed, I exhale deeply, folding a heavy arm over my eyes. Chase army-crawls up the mattress, kissing my nose.
A drowsy smile blooms as I push damp hair off my forehead, the wispy blond strands stuck to my temples. “Mmm…I missed this.”
“I missed you,” he says, pressing another kiss to my lips. “So much.”
I twine my arms around his neck and pull him down until his cheek presses to the swell of my breasts. We’re both hot, sticky, and exhausted. Raw emotioncontinues to battle inside me, shifting from laughter to terror to heart-wrenching sadness with every blink, every beat. One minute I’m smiling so big my jaw aches. Then I’m coming, screaming his name as pleasure surges through me. Then I’m crying. Sobbing. Envisioning an ending without him in it.
But for now I’m content because he’s still here.
As fatigue steals me away and my eyelids grow heavy, I hear something at the front of the house. A door opening, then clapping shut. Toaster’s nails click against hardwood.
Footsteps.
Voices.
A symphony of voices.
I startle, jolting into a sitting position as Chase rolls off me and searches for his clothes. “Your parents?” I wonder, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, taking the blankets with me.
He shakes his head, ruffles his hair. “They aren’t due for another two weeks.”
Scrambling, I shoot off the mattress and dive into the closet, yanking a dress off a hanger and shoving my head and limbs through the holes. Then I race over to Chase’s dresser and toss him a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
The voices grow louder.
And then, “Yo, you have guests.”
Oh my God.
It’s Tag.
