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She reaches up to my face. She runs her finger over my lips before cupping my face. “I’m trying, Jay. I really am. Just please don’t stop.”
I lean into her hand with a sigh. “I can’t keep going if you’re not here, baby. It’s not right.”
“Just move, Jay. I’m here now.”
I move slowly. So damn slow, I may as well not be moving at all, but I said I was going to go slow. I meant it.
I kiss down her jaw to her collarbone. Her breathing picks up as she arches into me.
I work my mouth over her skin, savoring her naturally sweet taste that’s mingling with salty sweat. I reach down, gripping her ass, tilting her slightly for a better angle eliciting a low, breathy moan from her. “You with me, Angel?” I ask as I thrust slow and hard into her tight sheath.
“I’m with you, Jay,” she says on a rasp.
But she’s still holding back. She’s with me. She’s feeling this with me, but she’s not connecting. Her body is there, but her mind – her heart is somewhere else.
I stop. I stop everything. “Wh-what are you doing?” she says on a pant.
I flip over, taking her with me. “I told you to stay with me, Zoey.”
“I’m with you,” she says, frustration clear in her voice.
She tries to move, to get the friction her body says she needs, but I hold her tightly, not letting her move. “You feel it in your body, but not here,” I tell her placing my hand over her heart. “Feel it, Zoey. If I wanted to fuck without feeling, I wouldn’t be with you. Feel me, Zoey.” I slowly move my hand up her chest to the back of her neck. I bring her mouth to mine, kissing her with slow determination. “Feel how much I love you with how I kiss you,” I whisper as I move across her jaw to her ear. “Feel how much I love you with how my hands caress you body. How tightly I hold you. Feel it through my words. How I tell you that I love you, I need you, I want you. How I need you more than my next breath.”
Then I feel it. I feel it when she’s all the way with me. I feel it in the way her body relaxes. I feel it in the way her breathing seems to stop then pick back up. I feel it in the race of her heart. I feel it in her eyes as she looks at me. It’s there. All of it. The lust. The desire. The want and need. The love. It pours from every facet of her.
“Are you with me, baby?” I ask as she begins to rock on me.
“I’m with you. All the way. You and me.”
Her heart is with me as she moves her body over mine. Her soul is there with me as I thrust up to meet her movements. She right there with me as she comes, breaking apart and I’m right there with her falling over the edge.
This is how it’s supposed to be. Her and me. Me and her.
Wanta picture of a happy man? That would be me. I knew I missed waking up to Zoey every morning. Now it’s become one of the best parts of my day – along with going to sleep next to her. She’s curled into my chest sleeping peacefully. I hate to wake her, but she has an appointment.
It’s been a month since she moved back to River City. She was supposed to meet with someone at the gallery a couple of weeks ago, but she keeps putting it off. It’s her anxiety. And her insecurity.
But today she’s going. She’s been in therapy for three weeks now. Much longer is you count the thirty days in New York. Last week, she started having Zane and I there too. Dr. Lansing said she needed to work through things with us too. I fought with her for a few days before caving because I promised her I’d do anything to help her. Even if that means going to a therapist and talking about my feeling for ninety minutes once a week. Although, if I’m being honest, I don’t do as much talking as listening.
Dr. Lansing has tried to get me to open up, but I don’t need that shit. I’m fine. I’m happier than I’ve been in a year.
The only person I’m worried about is Zoey. The appointment with the gallery isn’t the only thing she’s postponed. She’s barely left the penthouse since she’s come home. We went to my parents last week for Christmas. She did okay, but I could see a few hours into she started to squirm. She hung in there, but she was totally exhausted by the time we left.
She’s perfectly content and happy here at the penthouse. I feel guilty because that makes me want to let her just stay here all day. But it’s not healthy. So not only am I pushing her to her appointment today, I’m pushing her to a New Year’s Eve party tomorrow.
“Mmm. What time is it?” she murmurs into my chest.
I run a hand down her arm and bury my face into her hair. “It’s six-thirty. You can sleep a little longer.”
“I don’t think I’m going to make the appointment today,” she says softly.
I fully expected this. I don’t say anything yet though. Today, I’ve got back-up. Judging from the smell of bacon wafting into the room, I’d say it’s already here.
“Do I smell food?” she asks when she notices as well. “Did you make breakfast?”
I don’t say anything. I leave the bed to get dressed. I quickly take a leak, wash my hands, and brush my teeth. I throw on a pair of jeans then return to the room.
Zoey is still stretched across the bed with an arm thrown over her face looking totally relaxed. And damn if I don’t want to keep her that way.
