I inhale again before sliding my tongue up her centre, stopping where she likes and making slow, almost lazy circles.
There’s nothing lazy about it. Everything I do with her is intentional, right down to the slightest shift.
Her hands tangle in my hair when a moan catches in her throat.
“Perfect—” I groan, tongue flicking against her. “Fucking—”Her back arches and I bury my face deeper. “Pussy.”
“Bohdan.” She says my name, over and over again, her fingers tugging tighter on my hair with each stroke of my tongue.
I can feel when she’s about to come—I know the way she moves, shoulders rolling back into the bed, bowing against it, how her moans get breathier, how she tastes right before—and I take two fingers, teasing, sliding them inside her, slowly, and start to move them in time with my tongue.
She does shatter, tightening, coming all over me.
I pull back, even though I could stay between her legs forever, but her hands tug gently on my hair, and when I look up at her, she’s watching me, flushed and curious.
“You didn’t forget,” she says, words quiet when I lie down beside her, propping my head up on a hand.
“No.” I shake my head, tracing her lips with my thumb. “I didn’t forget.”
Her shoulders rise, and she looks at me, resolute. “I want to do something for you.”
“That was something for me,” I reassure, throwing her a wry grin. “Trust me.”
“I’d like ... you inside me. All of you. Together, the way we were.” She pauses, considering with a thoughtful blink. “I haven’t been with anyone since you and I still have my IUD so—”
“I wasn’t lying. I haven’t been with anyone else either,” I interrupt, and I think my heart might beat out of my chest. The idea of being inside her like that again—I shake my head. “Why would I ever want to be with anyone else when I’ve been with you?”
Sloan gives me a flat look—another flash of that funny, obstinate person. “You don’t want me to answer that. Trust me.”
“Sloan ...” I start, but she cuts me off with a press of her mouth to mine.
“Please. I don’t want to talk about any of it right now. The Polaroid, the ring, the night you ...” she trails off, and it hangs heavy in the air between us. The night I left. But she blinks, and I think she closes the door on wherever she keeps that chapter of us in her brain. “I just want to be with you,” she whispers, her lips traversing mine slowly, her palms sweeping across my shoulders, down my chest, and to the hem of my shirt.
I just want to be with you.
“I want to be with you, too.” I groan when her hand slides down the front of my shorts, over my impossibly aching cock.
She’s all I think about all the time—being with her like this, sure—but mostly just being withher.
When her hands rove across my back, guiding me back home, suspended over her in this bed, I imagine it’s just another morning.
When I reach behind my head and tug my shirt off, and our skin touches, chests pressing together, I imagine we’re back in Seattle.
Her hands, undoing the buttons of my shorts, gripping me and moving up and down, guiding me between her legs.
When I angle my hips, pushing inside her, inch by inch, and she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, lips crashing against mine—maybe we’re in Michigan.
Still together, just somewhere else.
With her—always with her—but maybe in a different world and in the body of the different me, and when her hips move up to meet mine, I bite down where that one piece of me still lives in the form of an old tattoo and try to swallow back the words he’d get to say.
I love you.
Sloan
Knowing Bohdan again is easy, but knowing his body again might be easier.
Maybe it’s because we grew together and I think my body would know his anywhere—even if we were tumbling through the dark, somewhere out there in the universe.
