He nodded and his mouth crashed back into mine, tongue delving deep. He pulled almost all the way out of me before slamming back in with more force than before. A cry of pleasure left my throat, captured by his mouth. He did it again and then kept rocking into me almost twice as fast as he had before, taking what he needed to come, and boy did I want to give it to him. One, two, three, four thrusts later he reached down, pressing his hand between our joined bodies until his middle finger found my clit. I exploded almost immediately, crying his name. One last slam inside me as I clenched and writhed around him, and he let go, too. He came with a guttural groan before dropping the rest of his weight on top of me, head turned to the side, panting. I clung to him as we both came down, pressing my hands into his bare back, massaging his taut muscles.
“Oh my god,” he said finally.
“I know.”
He rolled onto his side, pulling out of me, a sated sigh leaving his lips. When I turned to look at him, his eyes were on me. Not my body, but my face. He reached out and twirled a piece of my hair in his hand before gently pushing it behind my ear. It was so tender, a lump formed in my throat. I ran my fingers up and down his arm, pausing on the tattoo on his shoulder. Three rows of numbers, with slashes in between.Dates.
“Can I ask what they are?”
He nodded, eyes locked on mine.
“April 10, 1987?”
“Monica’s birthday.”
“September 15, 1990?”
“My birthday.”
I knew the next one. “And Luna’s,” I whispered. “I love it.” I pushed myself up and kissed his shoulder, right over the ink,before lying back down and returning my gaze to those chocolate eyes.
“Mom and Monica had a thing about birthdays. Always made a big deal about them. So, I don’t know, this is symbolic of my commitment to keep up that tradition.”
“You celebrate your sister’s, too?”
“Yeah, I take Luna on a fancy dad-daughter date. Francesca’s idea. We don’t talk about why, but I want to when she’s older.”
“I think that’s a great tradition.” I smiled, and he brushed his thumb over my raised cheek.
We lay there, exchanging gentle caresses, heads resting on his pillows, facing each other on our sides, until our breaths were soft and easy.
He opened his mouth to say something but closed it a breath later.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
My heart trilled. “I love you, too.” No hesitation, no doubt in my mind.
His brown eyes lit up. “Yeah?” He inched closer to me, touching our noses together.
“Yeah,” I affirmed before his lips found mine. It was soft and exploratory, full of care. Cherishing.
A kiss that saidI love you.
I never wanted to be kissed by anyone else.
Luke and I spent the next two days tangled in his sheets from the moment he got home from work until we drifted off after midnight. Talking, touching, experimenting. Only short trips to the kitchen for food and water.
As I expected, he didn’t need any more instructions on what did it for me—he was already a pro.
And he knew it.
On Wednesday, we decided we should leave the house, at least for a few hours. We drove to the beach when he got home from work.
We settled on top of the still warm sand, sitting on a blanket, me between his legs, using his knees as armrests while we watched the waves.
“I want to ask you something but I’m nervous it’s too soon,” I said. Ever since my conversation with Mimi I’d been wondering if Luke wanted more kids, or if Luna was it for him. I looked at him over my shoulder, my green eyes wide with trepidation.
