“No, but you might break me.”
He kissed me to ease the tension in our bodies and I immediately felt myself relax into the kiss, allowing him to enter me fully. Curling his hands around my head, he looked into my eyes. “Even better than I imagined.”
He fit me perfectly. How the hell was that possible when his body was almost twice as big as mine? It should have been uncomfortable, even painful. But it felt… amazing.
I soaked in the sensation, closing my eyes as he kissed me. His rhythm could have been choreographed, and I was struck by one thought… so many years of having sex with the wrong men. This is how it feels with the right one. I opened my eyes, startled, as I froze. Ohmigod, was I falling in love with him?
Sensing my tension, he pulled back to look me in the eye. “Hey, what is it? Are you okay? Does it hurt? You want me to stop?”
“No!” I held him closer, burying me face in the crook of his shoulder. “Don’t stop. Please.” I prayed he couldn’t feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. I didn’t want him to ask questions I couldn’t answer. Explain feelings I’d never felt before.
He was slow and gentle, obviously assuming it was physical pain I was battling. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Nothing had ever felt better than the feel of his body inside mine. Like it was… meant to be.
That thought prompted a fresh wave, a release even more intense than the last. I turned off my fears as I rode it out, giving my body and brain relief from the constant pressure of analyzing everything to death.
The way Joel made me feel, the way he touched me, made me believe it was okay to let go. To just be, when I was with him. I felt safe, wrapped in his arms, secure. I’d finally found peace.
His release was rougher, more aggressive, and I loved watching his control snap as he swore softly before giving in to it.
“Be right back,” he whispered in my ear before kissing my cheek.
I watched him walk into the ensuite bathroom before curling into the white down duvet and releasing a contented sigh. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed. Or at home. I’d had sleepovers with boyfriends before, but I’d stayed out of obligation, after doing the deed. Something about Joel’s bedroom made me wish I could stay forever.
“What are you thinking, beautiful?” he asked, crawling back into bed beside me.
“This house has great energy,” I said, tipping my head so I could look at him. “I think that’s why I’ve always loved it.” My folks had a nice old farmhouse just up the road that was cute and cozy, but there was something about the Wheeler’s farmhouse that had called to me since I was just a kid.
“Energy?” He asked, rolling onto his side to face me as he propped his head in his hand. “I didn’t know a house could have energy.”
I tapped his cheek playfully. “Ah, you have so much to learn.”
He grasped my hand, kissing it. Not gonna lie, that innocent little gesture made the butterflies in my tummy go wild again.
“So, teach me.”
“This house just feels good. The kind of place you never want to leave.”
His smile spread slowly before he said, “I like that.”
I blushed, realizing I’d probably said too much already. “I just meant if you walked into this house, say as a perspective buyer, you’d just know it was the house for you. You can tell there’s a lot of love, and good memories here.”
“Yeah, my mom said the same thing.” He bit his lip. “Can’t help but think my dad must have been pretty lonely rattling around this big house all alone after my mom died and I left though.”
I hated that he still felt guilty for living his life. I knew his father well and we talked about it often. Joel was doing exactly what his dad wanted him to do when he moved to California. Making a life for himself. Exploring. Discovering what made him happy… hoping he’d eventually find his way home, to start a family of his own in the house where he’d grown up.
“I don’t know if your dad told you this,” I said, plucking at the duvet. “But, um, I used to come and visit him sometimes, usually on my way to or from my folks’ place. I’d always bake way too much, you know, to share on social media or my blog, and I knew he had a sweet tooth, so I’d always drop some goodies off for him.”
Joel stared at me for a beat before he cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, he didn’t mention that. I knew he’d run into you in town from time to time, but I didn’t know you went out of your way to check on him. Thanks for doing that, G.”
I didn’t want his praise or gratitude. I did it because I genuinely enjoyed chatting with Joel’s dad. And I knew he was lonely, though he was too stubborn and proud to admit it. “No thanks necessary. He was a sweetheart. And I liked talking to him, hearing his stories.”
“What kind of stories did he share with you?”
His voice was gruff, and it broke my heart to think he might be sad because there were things his father would never be able to share with him now.
“He talked a lot about your mom,” I said, lacing my hand through his. “How they met, how much he loved her, how difficult it was for her to accept they’d never be able to give you a sibling, you know, because of her fertility issues.”
His eyes widened. “Wow, he really did tell you everything, didn’t he?”
