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Charm catches my lower lip between her teeth before whispering against it. “Come inside me while I’m looking at you.”
I drive into her harder.
“Let me see the sound I wrote about.”
My rhythm breaks.
“Let me feel every part you never gave them.”
The words reach the darkest, most guarded place inside me.
Charm cups my face and keeps me there.
“Come home to me, Ryan.”
I come with her name leaving me like a confession.
My body locks over hers while release tears through me harder than it did in the kitchen. I remain buried as deep as I can reach, one arm sliding beneath her back to hold her against me while every pulse empties inside the woman I have loved through anger, absence, and every brutal mile between us.
Charm watches.
She doesn’t look away when my face loses control. She doesn’t search for something to fear inside the intensity or turn my need into proof that she must save me from it.
She only holds me.
My forehead drops against hers as the last shudder passes.
For several breaths, neither of us can speak.
Charm’s fingers move through the damp hair at the back of my head. Her legs remain around my waist, holding me close while our bodies gradually soften together.
“That was better than the phone,” she whispers.
My laugh moves weakly between us. “Your powers of observation remain impressive.”
“You promised filth.”
“I ate my own come out of you.”
Her lips twitch. “You remain an overachiever.”
“You came twice.”
“Three times if we count the kitchen.”
“I always count.”
“That sounds like something you would keep in a spreadsheet.”
“Briggs would build charts.”
“If Briggs ever learns enough to chart our sex life, one of us has betrayed the other.”
“He already assumes I am excellent.”
“Confidence without supporting data is arrogance.”
“I have data.”
