The world narrowed to breathing, skin, and the fragile reassurance of being wanted despite everything broken between us.
I pushed her dress up her thighs, slow, exposing soft skin. Hooked my fingers in her underwear and slid them down,tossing them aside. She was already wet. I spread her legs wider, knelt between them. Leaned in. Tongue flat against her clit, licking slow circles at first, then faster. Sucked gently. Slid two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit that spot.
She gasped. “Cal....fuck…”
Her hips bucked. Fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I kept the rhythm steady, tongue flicking quick, fingers pumping until she clenched hard around me.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Right there....”
She came shaking, thighs clamping my head, a quiet cry escaping her lips.
I climbed up, kissed her mouth while she panted. Tasted herself on my tongue. She reached down, fumbled my belt open, shoved my jeans and boxers down my thighs.
I kicked them off. Settled between her legs. Rubbed the head of my cock through her slickness, teasing her entrance.
“Inside,” she whispered. “Now.”
I pushed in slow.... inch by inch.... until I was buried deep. We both groaned. Hot. Tight. Perfect.
“Move,” she said, voice rough. Nails digging into my shoulders.
I did. Long, deep thrusts at first. Then faster. Harder. The bed creaked under us, headboard tapping the wall in rhythm.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Like you mean it.”
I gave it to her. Skin slapping skin. Sweat slicking our bodies. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper.
“Right there...don’t stop...” she gasped.
I angled up, hit that spot again and again. She clenched hard, came around me.... walls pulsing, crying out my name.
I followed seconds later. Groaned low into her neck. Spilled deep inside her, hips jerking until I was spent.
Time blurred. Emotions tangled with touch. Apologies were spoken between kisses instead of words.
Afterward, we lay tangled in my childhood bed, sheets twisted around us, her head resting against my chest while my hand rested protectively over her stomach.
“You’re everything I should want to be better for,” I murmured into her hair.
She tilted her face up slightly. “Then be better. Not for me. Not even for the baby. For yourself first.”
I nodded slowly.
The craving still hummed under my skin. Quiet. Patient. Familiar as breathing.
But her warmth grounded me.
The steady weight of her and the small life growing between us felt terrifying and fragile and real in a way alcohol never was.
I didn’t know if I could keep her.
I didn’t know if I deserved to.
But that night…
I didn’t reach for the bottle.
Chapter 21
