While Darla might like the wall best, and he was down with that—becauseDarla—he loved looking in her blue eyes and taking her deep when they were like this. Forehead to forehead, eye to eye, connected in every way.
"Gorgeous," he said as he thrust harder. She made a soft, cute-as-fuck mewling noise he couldn’t get enough of.
"I’m close," she whispered, and he could feel the beginning of her orgasm along the length of his shaft. It nearly pushed him over the edge early, but he caught himself and held onto his own release. He’d hold off until she made the one noise right before bliss. He couldn’t put his finger on the sound, and definitely couldn’t replicate it if he tried. Something like a moan with an undertone of breathy goodness.
Then she made the sound he’d been waiting for—the one right before she finished.
"There it is," he said, adjusting his position so he’d press her sensitive spot more squarely as she clamped around him and held on through the waves.
That was his cue, and as her body pulsed around him, he followed her over the edge.
"Mach," she said his name like it was a prayer, her arms holding him tight against her.
"I’m here, Gorgeous," he said as she continued pulsing around his shaft.
She was trembling and shaking with the force of her release.
"I’ve got you," he continued to murmur to her.
When they both came back down and he was helping disentangle her legs from his shoulders, he felt like he was totally bare. His soul, his body… every single part of him.
This was the time he should tell her everything. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—the one where he could tell her he was falling in love, and he didn’t know what to do with that. Where he could tell her he’d never learned how to love, so he worried he’d be shit at it, but he was willing to give it a try if it was with her.
She brushed his hair from his face, he hadn’t slicked it back after his shower. No need, since it was just the two of them in the apartment and one of her favorite things when they were connected was grabbing his hair. Holding on while they both found release.
One of his favorite things, too, actually.
"Eyes?" she asked, smirking, and thankfully pulling him out of his own damn head.
"Really, Mr. Caveman?" she asked. "You demand myeyesin the middle of sex?"
Yes, really.
"This mouth," he said on a growl, leaning into her space with a self-assurance that usually had her dropping all of her guards.
"What about this mouth?" she asked, not giving him an inch.
"I’m really learning to enjoy it," he said with a low chuckle.
"It’s almost tomorrow," she said, and her throat worked as she swallowed.
He nodded because, yeah, it was.
Their eyes locked together, and he couldn’t say why he decided that was the moment to serenade her, but like all the things with Darla, it just felt right. There in the bed, holding her close, he sang a little of the new Dimefront song he’d co-written about getting it right. He sang to her what he hoped she understood was a promise. He couldn’t find the words outside of the bedroom, but he could give them to her here.
Her lips parted and she gasped as he continued singing to her—letting the moment be what it was meant to be.
"That’s beautiful," she said when he finished.
He kissed her on the nose, and dealt with the things that needed dealing with while she sat up to grab her shirt.
His throat got thick because he needed to tell her how he was feeling about shit. Explain how fucked up and scared he was about what came next. But when he thought about how to say it, his stomach churned like he’d swallowed gravel and he wanted to puke, but he knew that would only hurt worse.
He’d tell her. He would.
If she could find the courage to play the clarinet for him, he could figure out how to tell her how he felt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
