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In a lot of ways, he’ll always be that boy.
But he’s also a man. He’s the man who fought for my dreams, who never stopped waiting for me, and who made love to me all night long, cherishing every single piece of me.
I loved the boy, and I’m in love with the man.
Brant Elliott lays claim to all of my most precious memories of the past, and I know without a doubt he’ll claim my future as well.
Finally he’s stirring beside me. Brant’s eyes flutter open as he stretches, a smile stealing his yawn when he registers my presence.
I continue to play with his hair, sliding in closer. “Good morning, handsome.”
“Morning.” The smile grows brighter as he wraps his arms around me and tugs me against his bare frame. “How do you still smell like lilacs after last night? You should smell like sweat and sex and…” Nuzzling my hair, he inhales deeply. “Very bad things.”
I clasp his face and force his eyes on me. “There was nothing bad about last night,” I say, crinkling my nose.
“Fine.” He grins. “Naughty things. Dirty things.” Two fingers trail down my middle, landing at the juncture between my thighs. “Things that are making you blush right now.”
My breathing becomes unsteady. “It’s warm in here. It’s August.”
“I recognize that color in your cheeks, Junebug,” he rasps near my ear, curling his fingers inside me. “That’s all me.”
I arch my spine with a little whimper, grinding against his hand. “We—we should probably talk, don’t you think?” He pumps in and out of me, slow at first. Languidly delicious. “Discuss things?”
Brant’s right leg wraps around both of mine, trapping me to him as his fingers continue to ravage me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, sweeping my hair back until he’s nibbling down my throat and collarbone. “Ask me anything.”
His fingers quicken their pace. “Why…why are you really in New York?”
“You.” He nicks my shoulder with his teeth.
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Yes.”
I feel his erection pressing into my abdomen as he continues to finger me, his own breaths unraveling. A gasp laces my words. “A-Are they okay with that?”
“Tentatively.”
My hips meet his thrusting fingers as I feel the pressure building. “Only one-word answers?”
“It’s really hard to string sentences together when you’re about to come on my fingers, June.”
The logical part of my brain says to put all orgasms on hold until we’ve had a proper discussion, but my body overturns rational thought so I continue to ride his hand until I shatter blissfully, wildly, and collapse against his chest as two strong arms hold me as I come down.
Brant’s lips tickle my ear while he peppers me with kisses, and I can feel him smiling. My chest deflates with a long, satisfied breath. “Where were we?” I murmur.
“I’m not sure where you were, but I was right here…wishing I could be wherever you were.” When he pulls back, a flash of teeth lights up his face.
It takes my breath away.
I nearly choke because I can’t remember the last time I saw Brant smile like this. Untethered from grief and perfectly present.
I return his smile with my own as joyous tears shimmer back at him, knowing it’s been a long time since I’ve smiled like this, too.
It’s been years.
And I’ve been happy. Yes, I’ve been happy pursuing a lifelong dream, making new friends, dancing and working, experiencing my first foray into independence.
I’ve been happy.
