Page 146 of Reeves

When she pulls me down with her, I catch myself on my hands to keep from crushing her. The weight of her body beneath mine, the way her body moves under mine, is exactly the same. Being with her like this is surreal, like a dream that is somehow real.

My grip tightens on her back.

I move my mouth down her collarbone, finding the spots that make her breath hitch. She bows under me, breathing harder each time I hit the same spot.

I spread her legs further open with my knee and position my cock at her wet, throbbing opening, and stop short of pressing in.

"Do you want me inside of you?"

"Yes. Now. I want you, Reeves."

Her hands find my ass and pull me into her. I let out a moan as my cock fully seats inside her. I don't want to move, I just want to stay here forever, with her wrapped around me, holding me.

She clenches around me, her tight pussy squeezing me, leaving me desperate for more. I slowly pull back, stopping short of pulling out, and then slam back into her.

She calls out for more.

I catch her hand, pressing it into me, where my heartbeat hammers against my ribs. Her palm is warm, steady. Grounding me when everything else spins.

Her name comes out rough. She looks up at me, eyes dark in the dim light. There's no hesitation there as we are in sync, moving in and out, both of us in rhythm without thinking.

I kiss her again as I thrust in and out, slower this time. I let myself taste her properly and remember how she moves beneath me, what makes her gasp.

I love the small sounds she makes when I find the right spot.

Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. The sensation sends heat straight through my core. I remember this. The way she fits against me. How right this felt even when everything else was falling apart.

My hands slide down her sides, relearning curves that are familiar but changed.

She arches into my touch, back curving off the mattress. I watch her face, studying every expression. The way her eyes flutter closed when I find that sensitive spot below her ear. How her breath catches when my mouth moves lower.

"God, I missed you."

The words slip out before I can stop them. Raw. Honest in ways I don't usually allow myself.

Her eyes open, meeting mine, kissing me like she's trying to pull six years from deep inside. I give it willingly. All of it. Everything I've been holding back.

When she comes apart beneath me, her whole body trembling, I follow her over that edge. The release crashes through me, emptying every careful defense I've built.

I collapse against her, breathing hard. She holds me close, fingers tangled in my hair.

Neither of us speaks for several minutes.

My breathing slows first, the roar in my ears settling back to silence. The weight of my body presses into hers, and I realize I need to move before I crush her.

But I don't want to.

Stay.

The impulse hits stronger than expected. Not just physical comfort. Deeper. The urge to remain connected, to hold this space we've carved out together.

I shift my weight but don't pull away. Instead, I roll slightly, bringing her with me so we're lying on our sides, facing eachother. My arm stays around her waist. Her leg remains hooked over mine.

Her breathing evens out, and I watch the rise and fall of her breathing in the dim light. Her hair fans across the pillow, messy from my hands. There's a flush across her collarbone that I want to trace with my fingertips.

So I do.

She shivers slightly at the gentle touch. Not from cold. From the shift from urgent to careful.