“You feel so good.” He breathes in my ear before nibbling lightly on the lobe.
The sensations send shivers down my spine. He dips his head again, and though I meant to turn away, my heart and soul remember what my mind wants to forget—that I never recovered from the love I had with him.
Brennan was always my everything even if he didn’t consider me his.
His lips touch mine and I fall into the kiss like a woman drowning, helplessly clinging to the memory of us before everything shattered.
That’s when I’m assaulted with his scent —spice mingled with a pinch of citrus. Woodsy.
I come to the realization that this isn’t the scent of Brennan from my past. The pang of emotion that accompanies that thought rattles me enough to shove him back. I stare into his blue eyes deeply before accepting accountability.
His hands relax slightly. “Do you want this? Want me?”
I want this. I want to feel his hands on my body. I want the mindless explosion of sex with him without regret. Tonight, for the first time in so long, I have a chance to regain it.
Instead of answering him, I yank him close enough that I can jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. His strength is unmatched, so I’m not afraid he’s going to let me fall.
At least not physically.
He leans down to kiss me again, tenderness and regret clearly stamped on his face.
I shouldn’t let myself get comfortable. I know this isn’t a fix. It isn’t even a solution. It’s just a reprieve, a warm and desperate echo of the life I would have given everything to build with him.
I deepen the kiss, tasting the salt of tears that I’m not certain are his or mine.
He tears his lips away from mine, breath ragged. I know what he’s going to say before the words pass his lips. “I’ve missed you,” he says.
It's a tragedy because he wouldn’t have had to if he’d just listened to me.
His head ducks down to kiss me again but instead of following his lead, I pull back just enough to slide my hands beneath his sweater.
He removes his hands from balancing me one at a time until I can finally shimmy his sweater over his head. His dark hair falls back into place even as he boosts me higher against the wall. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he mutters.
“Then do something about it,” I challenge him.
One of his hands hooks into the front of my silk pajama bottoms. He mutters, “Need these off of you.”
I unwind my legs from around his waist one at a time as Brennan helps me untangle my pajama bottoms before flinging them off to the side. I situate myself so both legs clutch him against my heat.
It frees his hands so he can drag his fingers along my bare thigh, to cup my full breast. Instead of returning to the frantic pace he teases my nipple by rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The way the silk rubs against my sensitized skin makes me moan.
Brennan, not being satisfied, swiftly undoes each of the buttons of my pajama top, exposing my tattoo of the constellation of Orion. I got it because Orion’s story highlightsa journey of guidance, illumination, and foundational strength—like I intended to be as a future teacher.
He drags his lips across it over and over—much the same way he used to when we had all the time in the world in his off-campus apartment. He murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve missed you. Missed your taste.”
Then, I feel his rough hand on the bare skin of my legs. He slides them up, and up, until he reaches the bare skin of my ass.
I lean forward and brush my lips across his collar bone. “Haven’t worn them in years. Too…restrictive.”
A wheezing sound rumbles out of his chest. He skims his hand over my now exposed stomach before dipping his fingers between my legs, his thumb circling my clit.
His thick fingers drag through my wetness. A moan escapes as I arch into him, silently pleading for more. He takes that for the invitation it is, pressing two fingers deep inside.
He rasps, “You’re so tight.”
My only answer is to roll my hips, silently asking for more.
“God, I want to be inside you.” He pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth to taste me. “Do you want me, Amy?”
