Finally, my shaking stops. I’m ready to collapse into a ball and sleep for a million years. Or clean
the house. Weird.
“Baby,” Zach says hoarsely. I force my eyes open and lock on his tense features. I give him what
I’m sure is a dopey smile.
“I can’t feel my legs,” I say with a snorting giggle. Everything is brighter and funnier right now.
I shriek and grab Zach’s shoulders as he rears up. He yanks me down to him, pushing deeper
inside me. Everything wakes up with a gasp. Maybe I’m not that tired.
“My turn,” he says darkly.
He’s definitely ridden horses. The man can move his hips. And all those muscles he worked so
hard to build are gleaming, bunching, moving. I feel like I’m in the middle of the tornado, Zach being
the tornado.
But he’s also my anchor. All I can do, all I want to do, is hang on tight and enjoy the ride.
So that’s exactly what I do. All of my senses are pinging, cataloging everything about this moment.
Watching the bead of sweat trickle down his temple. The salt taste of it against my tongue. His rough
groans and grunts in my ear. The massive power of his muscles under my hands. And beneath all of it
is us. That smell is uniquely ours.
I watch him fall apart. I watched him dissolve and I hold him tight as he comes back to earth.
Maybe that’s why I don’t notice the hand that presses between us. Or the gentle press of his finger
against my clit.
Now it’s my turn to dissolve.
Again.
And I know he’ll hold me tight and keep me safe until I come back.
SEX IS GREAT. FANTASTIC. AMAZING.
But laying here with him? The casual way he runs his fingertips up my back? The nearly absent
minded press of his lips against my temple? This is pretty damn incredible, too.
I’m soaking it all in. Capturing each moment with a mental photograph. Not because I think this
will be the last time, but because I want to remember the first time. When it all felt so new, so
incredibly life-altering.
I hope it doesn’t change, but I also hope it does. I hope I always lose my breath when he touches
me, as much as I hope that I’ll feel like something’s missing when we’re not together. Like a piece of
