Page 94 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Still angry?" he murmured.

"Getting less so," I managed.

A soft laugh escaped him. It was real, unguarded, and so beautiful. By the time he settled himself between my thighs, I was past speaking entirely. Houston paused with his forearms braced on either side of my face, looking down at me.

"Gema."

"I need you," I begged.

He moved into me slowly, giving me time to adjust to the fullness of him, watching my face the whole time with an attention that was almost unbearable. It was too much and not enough all at once, being seen that closely by someone who clearly meant to see all of it. I gripped his shoulders, letting my head fall back and felt him exhale against my throat. It was the sound of surrender.

"You own me," he breathed. "You can ask anything of me, and I would give it to you."

"All I need is for you to move," I gasped, wrapping my legs around him.

The rigid tightening of his abs was the only warning before he slammed into me. I cried out and he groaned.

He was thorough and deliberate and devastatingly attentive to my needs—the same way he was about everything—finding a rhythm that made my breath catch, his mouth at my neck, my shoulder, and returning to my lips when the distance became too much. I moved with him, finding the same rhythm, my hands learning the landscape of his back and shoulders and the nape of his neck, where his hair curled slightly from the rain.

"Look at me." His eyes focused on mine. "You are so beautiful. I can never get enough."

I met his gaze and we kept our eyes open as the rhythm we created built toward something all-encompassing, and when it came, it came for both of us. Houston’s forehead dropped to mine, my hands gripped his shoulders, and we were breathing hard into the small space between us.

He was still for a long while afterward, his weight half on me, half braced beside me, his lips resting at my temple.

"Convinced?" he asked, catching his breath.

I considered this with what remained of my faculties. "Provisionally."

He laughed again, a real one. I collected it like a precious stone, pulling him closer and biting his lip.

"Let’s go again."

Houston rolled over, and out of bed. "Hold on."

Standing, he checked the window, grinning at whatever he saw. He wrapped me up in a blanket before carrying me out of the barn and into the night, where the rain was down to a light drizzle. How he’d managed to open the barn with one hand, I had no idea, but he seemed like he was on a mission, and I wasn’t going to stop him. He carried me through the back door, into the kitchen, down the hall, moving through the dark of his house with the certainty of a man who knew every corner, every floorboard. I kept my face close to his neck and felt his pulse against my cheek.

He closed the door to my bedroom behind us. His bedroom. I thought about how I’d touched myself, knowing that he’d slept in that bed. Even the daily change in linens hasn’t erased the smell of him. It had been a constant battle to keep from crying out, thinking of what he’d feel like next to me—inside me.

Houston laid me on the bed and bent down between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine. This man, who had been two people for so long, who had built tunnels under the earth for people he would never meet, who had slept in a barn so I could have his bed, who had told me the truth finally and watched my face to see what I would do with it—this man had shown me, piece by piece, who he really was, and I had no idea what to do with being trusted like that.

"Now I’m ready," he whispered.

The rain continued outside. I threaded my hands through his hair and pulled his mouth between my thighs, refusing to think about anything but him. For tonight, Houston was everything.

36

Houston

New Chocolate Dainties

Sunlight peaked through the curtains. I pulled Gema tighter to my chest, holding onto last night. I could lay here forever. I hadn’t expected her to find out about the smuggling operation on my property, especially not like this, though I’d hoped to tell her, eventually.

The fact that she knew was dangerous. If anyone tried to harm her to get information out of her… I cut off the thought as soon as it came. I didn’t know how it happened, but this woman was precious to me. And when I’d revealed I was a Black man, that I’d been passing, she didn’t even blink. She understood in a way that I could have never expected, like she’d suspected all along.

The bedroom door burst open. I sat up quickly, covering Gema with a blanket. "What the—"

Paul stood in the doorway with two plates piled high with breakfast food. "Good morning, Dr. Whitaker," he greeted.