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I stare, confused. Everything tells me that he loved me. He loved me just as much as I did him, but . . .
“What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. I meet his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t help but blush.
“I’m not just going to undress you,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I want you to see me do it and enjoy it.”
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I see you, Ameline. Believe me, I see you and I’m fucking enjoying the show.”
His words send a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire in my belly. I can’t help but smile, feeling a sense of empowerment. I continue undressing him, taking my time, savoring every moment.
As I slip off his pants, I can’t help but admire the sight of him. He’s all muscle and power, but there’s also a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that draws me in.
I step closer, my body pressing against his. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, the tension between us palpable. I look up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “How about now?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks. “Yes, Ameline. I see you. I’ve always seen you—and loved you.”
But then, he takes control, pushing me against the wall and captivating me with a deep, passionate kiss. His hands move down to my hips, cradling my ass before lifting me. Instinctively, my legs encircle him, my ankles locking behind his back. His gaze never leaves mine as he enters me, slowly, inch by inch until he’s deep inside.
Filling me completely.
He begins to rotate his hips before pulling out. Then pushing back inside. His intensity overwhelms me, each thrust deeper and more powerful than the last, stealing my breath. Feeling him so completely, I’m lost in the moment, wondering if this fire between us has always burned this fiercely, or if it’s stronger since we need the heat to melt the pieces of our hearts so they can fuse back into one.
His movements grow more desperate. I feel myself climbing toward a peak, a buildup of all our shared history and unhealed wounds. My eyes close as I surrender to the sensation, the deep connection, his touch on my skin, and the shared rhythm of our shallow breaths.
Right now we’re more than just two people fucking. We’re two souls desperately trying to rediscover each other, to heal our broken past and maybe . . . before I can think of more, he suddenly slows his movements.
We stay like that for a moment, our bodies still connected, our breaths mingling in the air.
He pulls back, looking at me with an intensity that makes my heart race. “I still love you,” he says between breaths. “So fucking much, it hurts not having you. It’s hard to wake up without you by my side. Please forgive me. Please let me love you again.”
I want to believe him. I really do. But after everything we’ve been through, I don’t know if I can trust those words. I don’t know if I can trust him. But for now, I push those thoughts aside, savoring the feeling of him inside me, the way his body fits against mine.
He begins to move again. My back presses against the chilly, unyielding wall, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his chest against mine. His thrusts are hard, almost desperate. Each one sends a jolt of pleasure through me, igniting a fire deep within my core. I can feel him, every inch of him, as he moves inside me. It’s beyond intense. My nails dig into his shoulders. I can’t help but let out a moan.
“More, more. Go faster,” I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t want this to end, not yet.
He doesn’t reply, instead, he increases his pace, driving himself deeper into me.
I open my eyes, looking into his. There’s a softness there, a tenderness that wasn’t there before. It’s then I realize he’s not just making love to my body, he’s making love to my soul.
He stops, his forehead resting against mine. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I admit.
For a moment, we savor our connection, wrapped in each other’s arms, our hearts beating in sync. Then, he starts moving again, slower this time, more deliberate. Each thrust is a promise, a vow, a declaration of love.
His thrusts slow, and he rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet room. I can feel the beat of his heart, matching the rhythm of mine. It’s a comforting sensation, one that takes me back to a time when we were young and in love, when we believed that our love could beat the odds.
I close my eyes, surrendering to the sensation, letting it wash over me. For now, I choose to believe that love can still overcome whatever the future holds. That the love we once had can be rekindled, and our marriage can be saved.
I’ll just hold onto this moment, this feeling of him inside me, his heart beating against mine. And I’ll hope that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to each other.
Soon after, I can feel my body tensing, wanting to surrender to the wave of pleasure that threatens to consume me. I gasp, my breath hitching in my throat as I feel myself on the precipice, ready to plunge headfirst into the abyss.
“I’m close,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He looks at me, his eyes dark with desire, and I can see the hunger in his gaze. “Me too,” he says, his voice strained.
We move together, our bodies in perfect harmony, our rhythm building to a fever pitch. I can feel the tension mounting, my body tensing as I approach the edge.
