by S. Layne
But somehow, determination builds inside me along with the orgasm he’s pulling from me.
I want this.
I want him.
I want us.
He brings me to the edge of ecstasy slowly and almost painfully, my entire body tight with need. I feel my orgasm coiling low in my stomach and in my hips until it fiercely works its way to my center.
“James,” I moan, clawing at his biceps as he rocks into me. His hips shift and roll, rubbing against my clit.
I throb for him and my body begins quivering when he growls into my neck.
“Come for me,” he demands quietly but forcefully.
And I do. I lunge forward, biting the muscle at the crook of his neck and shoulder as my entire body spasms from a delightful and powerful release.
He follows me quickly, burying himself balls deep. As my own sex pulses and clamps around him, I feel him climax inside me.
It’s beautiful.
It’s emotional.
It’s completely terrifying.
We’re quiet for several minutes, our heartbeats mingling together, thumping against our chests until they’re almost in sync.
Sweat and tears drip from James and merge with my own and I almost become sad when he pulls out of me.
“Let me clean us up,” he says.
I’m not ready for the night to end. I’m too afraid that physical distance will create a different type of distance.
And it might make me a coward.
It could make me naïve or stupid or brave—I have no idea—but I sit up as James leans back and I wrap my hands around his neck, smiling and dragging my lips down his jaw to his chin. “Let’s clean up together,” I whisper, and wrap my legs around his waist. “Shower with me.”
“Just when I didn’t think you could be any more incredible,” he says, and that teasing voice is back. But underneath it, I hear a hint of gratefulness and concern, too.
The warm water sluicing off our bodies is mildly cooling the torrential storm inside me. Showering with James seemed like a great idea.
Until I stepped inside the small space, wrapped in James’s arms, and the already narrow space seemed to shrink around us.
Now I feel vulnerable. This is intimate, something even closer than what we just experienced together. I can’t look him in the eyes as he begins to pour the body wash into the palm of his hand.
“You’re avoiding me,” he says, and quirks a brow when I bring my eyes to meet his. “Don’t regret this.”
I shake my head, my fingers brushing against my thigh. His soapy hands are cool when they wrap around my shoulders and I inhale a breath as he begins touching me.
I can’t do anything except stare at his chest, blinking, watching the water pour down over us.
“I don’t regret it,” I murmur, shaking water off my face. I brush it out of my eyes. “But I don’t want to avoid our problems by turning to sex.”
“I don’t either.” He crouches down in front of me and washes my legs. My breath catches again when he takes a washcloth and washes me, cleaning himself off of me. “I just want to enjoy it while we work everything else out.”
I laugh softly, look down, and shake my head, feigning exasperation. “You’re such a boy.”
He leans forward, and presses his lips against my navel. His hands wrap around my hips and he holds me to him. Slowly, his head tilts back and I’m thankful for the hot steam in the shower that hides my blush.
This view is exactly like my fantasy earlier in the week.
The same one he admitted to having.
One edge of his lip twists into a wry grin and I know we’re both thinking the same thing.
“I would stay here and worship you forever if I thought it would help.”
I sigh, my fingers run through his wet locks, and I smile sadly. “I would let you if I thought it would help.”
“Because my oral skills are excellent.”
“I know that,” I say, laughing. “Get up. It’s my turn to wash you.”
His lips twitch. “I can get up.”
“I mean on your feet.”
“I know what you meant,” he says, and his lips return to my navel. His tongue darts out and trails to my hipbone. Goose bumps break out on my skin as he tightens his grip on my hips and then moves his hands around to my ass. “Or I could stay here for a little bit longer, too.”
My hands push back his hair until he’s looking up at me. His chin rests just above my pelvic bone and the slight scruff of his unshaven jaw scrapes against my skin.
The small brushes of him are heating me from the inside out until I’ve forgotten any reason to say no to this.
If there ever was one.
He doesn’t allow me to argue before he drops his head. His chin scrapes my skin and then his fingers are there, spreading me, and his tongue begins swirling lazy circles around my clit and down in between my folds.
My body shudders and shivers and I lean back against the tiled shower so I don’t collapse.
My knees shake when he presses one finger, and then two, inside of me. The flat of his tongue presses against my clit until it’s throbbing and I’m grinding my hips into his face.
“Hell,” I whisper-moan, and drop my head against the shower wall. My legs quiver from the stress of having to hold myself up and my fingers grip his hair.
I tug him toward me, and the low chuckle that falls from his lips vibrates against my skin.
“Holy shit, James,” I whisper, hopefully quietly.
“I want to see you come apart for me,” he says, pulling back and staring at me. Water drips from his face down his shoulders and chest.
I’m breathless and panting, my legs weak, and my heart stutters when he continues fucking me with his fingers. They twist and turn, finding the bundle of nerves inside, and I gasp, writhing against him.
I’m so close.
“I might fall.” My feet slip slightly in the water until James’s weight shifts. His hands move to the backs of my thighs and then he’s on his feet and he lifts me, spreading me open, and my back is pushed against the wall.
“I’ll hold you up, then,” he says, and he pulls me down over him. “And then I can watch you come apart when you’re all over me.”
He stares at me with heat in his dark eyes—pools of deep espresso that shout his desire for me—and I can’t pull my own eyes away. I see my reflection in his dilated pupils and I look messed and crazed as he begins pulling out of me.
My mouth drops open and my core clenches around him, pulling his cock back in.
“You feel so good,” I moan, loving how he slides into me, pushing me against the wall, and my head drops back again.
“I need to see you let go, Laurie,”
“I’m so close.” I grasp his back and tighten my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together.
The move spreads my thighs, and tremors begin—pleasurable pulses that start in my lower stomach and roll down until my nails are digging into his back.
“James,” I mewl. My teeth hurt from trying to keep quiet and then he covers my screams with his mouth, swallowing my cries as he brings me to another orgasm.
“Fuck,” he groans, pulling back from my lips as he slides to the hilt inside me. I feel him pulse, his heartbeat races against my chest as his forehead drops to my shoulder. “Holy hell, I’ve missed you.”
The words are on the tip of my tongue. I want to say them back. I would mean them, too, but as my racing heart slows, returning to normal, and James slowly lowers my feet to the shower floor, I can’t say them back.
I can’t force this to go any faster than we’ve already taken it.
Once my feet are on the floor and I assure James I won’t collapse from pleasure overload—to which he flashes me a satisfied grin—we finish our shower, quickly washing each other, and then he steps out as I finish my hair.
When I’m done and I turn off the water, James is still there, holding open the door for me with a large bath sheet
in his hands.
He folds me into it, wrapping me until my body warms, and then gives me privacy while I brush my teeth and apply lotion.
When I join him in bed, he pulls me next to him. He’s on his back, and my head is on his shoulder.
One hand of mine lies on his stomach, my fingers mindlessly playing with his thin trail of black hair.
His arm is wrapped around my shoulder and his hand combs through my slightly wet hair. It causes a calming sensation to flicker through me, and my eyes drift closed.
I’m almost fully asleep, the heaviness of a long day with excellent sex pulling me under, when I feel James’s lips against my forehead.
“I love you, babe. And I hope like hell you can forgive me. I’ll wait as long you need, do whatever I need to do for us, to make this work.”
I don’t know if he feels my breath hitch against his throat.
I don’t know if I make a sound.
Because sleep pulls me to darkness and everything goes black.
In the morning, I wake up instantly aware of two things.
One, James’s arm is wrapped around my back and I still feel his heart in his chest beneath my ear. I am in the exact same position I was when I fell asleep, except my leg is thrown over his and my arm is across his stomach. I’m covering him and holding him tight like I was afraid he’d disappear in my sleep.
The second thing I notice is that this not only doesn’t make me nervous or scared but it’s the best night of sleep I’ve had since I can remember.
This is part of us, how we used to be, how we used to sleep for as long as I can remember.
There’s a calmness, a serenity that comes as the last dredges of sleep clear from my hazy mind when I realize I have missed waking up like this, next to James.
His hand shifts in my hair and I turn toward his chest, pressing my lips against his shoulder.
“Good morning,” I murmur.
His hand combs through my hair and I feel his breath along the top of my head. His arm on my back tightens and he pulls me snugly against him. “Morning, babe.”
A grin tugs at the edges of my lips. Babe.
I haven’t heard the endearment fall from his lips in over three months, and he’s used it several times since last night.
I snuggle closer. My hand trails along his abdomen.
“You sleep okay?” I ask, and his chest rumbles with laughter.
“I’ve had you in my arms all night. I think it’s safe to say this is the best night sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
I hear the smile in his voice and pull back as much as he allows me to.
My smile matches his: it’s small, hesitant, potentially wondering if the other regrets what we’ve done, if we’ve moved forward too fast…
If we’ve moved forward at all.
But I don’t want to put the brakes on anything, either.
“I like being in your arms all night long,” I tell him, and watch as his sleepy eyes blink in surprise.
“Thank God,” he whispers, and pulls me back to his chest. He presses his lips against my forehead and his hand on the back of my head cups my neck, holding me against him. “Nowhere else I’d want you to be.”
A part of me doesn’t want to be anywhere else, either, but I can’t bring myself to be that vulnerable with him, that transparent and letting him know.
“I should get up,” I say, pushing off his chest and rolling back to my knees. “My dad’s going to be awake soon.”
James lets out a playful gasp. His arm wraps around my back and he tugs me until I flop onto his chest. I’m half-draped over him. “Do you think he’ll ground you if he finds me in here?”
“You should probably get downstairs before he notices,” I say, playing along with him. “Come on. I’m going to make sure you guys get a good breakfast before he has to get back to the hospital.”
“Fine.” He flops back into the bed tossing an arm over his eyes. “And all I wanted to do was stay in bed all day long ravishing you.”
“Tempting,” I call out on my way to the bathroom. “Maybe another day.”
And by the time I close the door to the bathroom, I’m smiling, loving our playful banter.
I know a night of sex doesn’t change anything long-term, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel good to have had the time to reconnect with James this week.
I don’t know if it’s because we’re away from our problems.
I don’t know what it will be like when we return home.
I do know that I need to try. This last week—James being here for me and making it clear that time with me is a priority—has filled me with just enough hope that maybe I can begin to forgive him.
Maybe I’m strong enough to stay.
The door to the bathroom opens just as I’m finishing up my teeth. Rinsing my mouth out, I take in my view of James as he stands in the doorway, dressed only in a pair of jeans he’s pulled on. He leans against the doorframe with his hip and watches me, unashamed.
“What?” I ask, a hint of a smile playing on my lips.
His eyes sparkle. “You’re beautiful.”
I roll my eyes playfully and turn to face him. Unabashed, I scan my eyes over his body. The workouts he’s been doing the last few weeks have made small but noticeable changes, and I can’t help but feel a little swoony as I take in his sleepy appearance. Dark hair that flops and sticks out around his ears and over his forehead. Simple wire glasses that I know will disappear as soon as he puts in his contacts. Arms that are strong.
I simply love the way my husband looks.
And I hate that another woman—my friend—has seen it in all its glory.
With a sigh, I pull my eyes to his and his smile disappears.
I don’t say anything. He can tell my playfulness has vanished and in its place I know hurt is shining in my eyes as I walk past him.
“You never said why you didn’t go see your parents yesterday.” I walk to the bedroom and begin changing my clothes. I suddenly need some space. Talking about his parents usually helps.
“They weren’t home,” he says.
I pull on a simple T-shirt and see James standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
I take a step forward, despite my hurt, and go to him…physically and opening myself emotionally. “My mom will be home in a couple of days.”
James nods but says nothing.
I take another step, running my hand through my hair before it drops to my side. “We should probably talk about going home. Between my dad and everything Elma has taken care of with meals and cleaning, I don’t think they’re going to need me much.”
James nods again. “It’s probably time to head home then.” He looks uncertain as his eyes drift to the side, away from mine.
That pain in his eyes hurts. It tells me that despite last night, there’s so much distance between us.
I reach him and place my hand on his chest. The heat from him warms my palm and my breath catches when one of his hands covers mine.
I lick my lips and inhale a deep, shaky breath. Exhaling quickly, I say, “When we get back to Denton, I’d like for you to come back home.”
My chin wobbles and tears burn my eyes. I can’t even look up to see James and what he’s thinking.
But I feel his breath stall in his chest beneath the weight of my hand, and I feel his other hand reach out to cup my cheek.
With a thumb pressed under my chin, he tilts my head up until I’m forced to see him.
Really see him.
And it’s his own tears filling his eyes that let me know I’ve just made the right call.
“You want me to come home.”
I nod. “I think we have a lot to work on, but I think it’d be better to do it with less space between us.”
I hope.
My smile is shaky and trembling when James lets go of my chin, wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me to his chest. His other hand drops from mine on his chest and moves to my lo
wer back.
“God, I fucking love you, Laurie. Thank you.”
I love you too, I want to say. But I can’t. The words still lodge in my throat, because on the heels of those words I also want to say I’m still really mad, too.
As if James realizes why I can’t return the words yet, even though they’re silently screaming from inside my chest to be released, he squeezes me tighter, holds me closer, and presses his lips to the top of my forehead.
“I’ll prove it to you,” he says, whispering against my hair. “I swear it.”
I can only hope he’s right. And that he isn’t filling me with more lies I desperately want to believe.
“You look well,” I say, bending over my mom and kissing her on the cheek.
My dad has just brought her home from the hospital and has settled her in bed, where she’s supposed to stay for another week before she gets back to moving around.
It’s going to drive her crazy.
I almost can’t wait to go home and get out of this house before she starts harping on everyone and arguing just because she’s bored.
Her hair and makeup are already perfectly done, since she did them before we left the hospital.
“I’m just fine,” she huffs quietly. Her voice still sounds tired, like it has for the last week, so I hope she takes her doctor’s advice and rests. “I already feel better now that I’m home.”
“Make sure you rest.” I take a seat on the bed next to her and squeeze her hand. My mom isn’t the most sentimental person in the world, but I get teary-eyed around her now, thinking that we almost lost her. “I’m so glad you’re going to be okay.”
Tears well in my eyes and my mom makes an exasperated huffing sound.
I laugh quietly. “I know it’s killing you to not be in charge right now, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure your father and Elma will take good care of me.”
She doesn’t sound certain, and her lips are slightly pinched when I meet her gaze. She’s annoyed and tired. Her skin is still slightly pale and she looks smaller, weaker than she used to. Some of it is physical from the stress and surgery this last week. Some of it is because she simply seems older and more vulnerable.
