Don’t let it wander into dark, useless places—into questions that don’t belong in this moment.
Not now.
Not when she’s here.
With me.
I shove those thoughts down hard, where they belong, and focus on what’s real.
On her.
On this.
On the way her breath hitches beneath me, soft and uneven, like she’s just as overwhelmed as I am.
The way her hands tighten on me, fingers digging in like she’s afraid I might disappear again.
That nearly wrecks me.
Because I remember that.
Remember her like this—open, responsive, all feeling and fire beneath the surface.
I groan low as I move, every inch of me locking in place for a second like my body’s trying to memorize the feel of her all over again.
Christ.
She’s so warm. So soft. Smooth in all the right places, wrapped around me in a way that feels achingly familiar and completely new at the same time.
My jaw clenches.
My forehead drops to hers, our breaths tangling, heat building between us in waves that don’t let up.
“Ezzy,” I rasp, her name rough in my throat.
My mouth trails lower, slower now but no less hungry, tasting, claiming, reacquainting myself with everything I lost.
Her body answers me before she does, shifting beneath me, drawing me closer without words.
Just instinct.
Just need.
And it hits me all at once—how much I missed this.
Missed her.
Missed the way everything else fades when I’m with her, like the world narrows down to just this space, this moment, this connection.
My hands move over her again, slower now, like I’m reacquainting myself with something I should’ve never lost in the first place.
She reacts instantly.
Just like I remember.
Just like I never forgot.
And it nearly undoes me.
