Page 61 of Forever Only Once

“He hasn’t texted again. The detectives say he’s where he needs to be, back in California. That he isn’t anywhere close, and he’s checking in with his parole officer. He isn’t near me. And he can’t hurt me. They can’t trace the texts to him. We don’t even know if it was him. However, I don’t want to live in fear, and I don’t want to live in anger. Therefore, I’m living in whatever emotion I have left.”

I leaned forward and ran my lips across hers.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She frowned.

“For what?” she asked.

“For being you. For reminding me that my life isn’t the out-of-control weirdness of work or whatever the fuck Chris is doing. You’re here. And you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

“Between work and the date pact that is going nowhere with the others for now, thank you for making my part easy.”

I laughed and then kissed her, slowly at first until it deepened into something more.

We were in my kitchen, the two of us mired in so many emotions I knew we should probably slow down, but we didn’t. Instead, she raised her hands and let me strip off her shirt, slowly, until my hands were on her breasts. My lips there, too. Her hands slid down my back, cupping, grasping, and then we were both naked, her on the kitchen counter, and me standing there before her. When she slid the condom over my dick, squeezing the base, I groaned, going down to my knees first to lap at her. Her thighs were around my head, clutching me tightly, and I probed at her, my fingers slowly playing with her soft flesh, my beard rough against her inner thighs.

I laughed with her, blowing hot air over her pussy, nibbling, sucking, playing with her clit. And when she shouted my name, her pussy clamping around my fingers, I slid my digits out, licked them clean as she looked at me, her eyes dark, her mouth parted, and then I slid into her.

We didn’t need any words, because there weren’t any for this.

Instead, her wet heat enveloped me, and my body shook, the base of my spine tingling at first contact. With another inch, I was fully seated, my body rocking against hers. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I slid one hand around to the back of her head, tilting her so I could devour more of her, my other hand digging into her thigh. I was careful never to squeeze too hard, to hurt her in any way. She was precious to me. She was everything.

How the hell had this happened? How had I fallen so quickly?

Regardless, I loved it, and I thought I might love her.

I kept moving, sharing breaths with her, arching and aching as my cock pulsed deep inside her.

When I slid my hand down her thigh and in between us, brushing along her clit, she broke apart, her cunt wet and tight around my dick. I fell into her, coming hard, filling the condom as I roared her name in my head, but my lips were on hers, so only a breath of passion escaped.

And then we were shaking, still naked in my kitchen, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Because this wasn’t the man I had once been. She wasn’t the woman she had been before either. But this was us, and while I knew the ramifications of what had happened earlier would likely come back to haunt me—because they always did—and I knew her ex probably wasn’t done with her, right then, I could pretend. I could just be, and that was perfectly fine with me.

Because I had been missing this for far too long.

As her hands stroked me, laughter in her eyes, and heat renewing in her skin, I knew that no matter what, we would have each other when the dam broke and reality invaded.

We would have each other.