His eyes meet mine, so full of affection.
“I am now.” He weaves one hand through my hair and pulls my face down to his.
Our lips meet in an urgent kiss, every unspoken apology and missed moment over the last few weeks blending together as the rain pelts my back.
“Angel,” he breathes, chest heaving when we finally break apart.
“I know,” I tell him, pressing my forehead into his. “I’m sorry. I’m sosorry I pushed you away. I can’t believe I ever thought being without you was possible.”
He searches my face, longing and desperation etched into his. “We’re aligned. There’s no way I can spend my life not loving you.”
With that, he dives back in, kissing me harder.
“Wait.” He pulls away, swiping rain from his eyes. “You had time to put on a rain jacket?” he teases, tugging on the collar of the Granata zip-up. “Here I thought you were only checking the cameras.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I did check the cameras,” I assure him, brushing his wet hair out of his face. “But I was already dressed and heading out to find you.”
He kisses me again, and I close my eyes, relishing the contentment of being back in his arms.
Out of all the ways I thought we’d come back together, I never imagined we’d end up lying in his driveaway again.
Our kisses are frantic and frenzied as we stumble into the kitchen, soaking wet and laughing so hard we’re breathless.
Cupping my face, he shakes his head slightly and sighs.
“What?” I can’t help but ask.
There’s so much weight in the way he’s looking at me right now—in the way he always looks at me. From anyone else, this level of assessment would be too heavy. Too expectant. Too intense.
But there’s so much reverence and hopefulness in his gaze. It’s not too much. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough. Alaric is strong and commanding; stoic and passionate. He’s everything I never knew I wanted or deserved. He brings balance and assurance to our relationship, creating the type of support I didn’t think I’d ever find in a partner.
“I love you so much,” he tells me, sincerity dripping off every word like the droplets falling from his soaking wet hair.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, playing with the strands at his nape.
“Hang on to that thought, angel.” He bends and hoists me into his arms. “There’s nothing soft or loving about the way I need to fuck you.”
As amusement and desire swirl inside me, I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him.
Rather than take me upstairs, he carries me to the kitchen table and sets me on its surface.
“Here?” I squeak, gripping the edge of the solid wood.
“Here. Or on the counter. Perhaps the floor. I just need to be inside you.Now.”
He kisses me again, fighting with the zip-up I threw on, then fumbling with his own clothes. When we’re both naked, I take his length and guide him forward.
Our mutual desperation is palpable, desire coating every hydrogen atom in the air we breathe.
Being apart from him was emotionally and mentally strenuous. I didn’t realize how much I basked in his calm, steady presence until we were apart.
“Let’s never break up again.” I paint my clit with the little pearl of precum already clinging to his tip, mewling on contact and then dragging his crown through my folds.
“Never,” he vows as I guide his length into my body.
We notch in place with utter ease. The first inch is exquisite, like all the stars in our own galaxy aligning. He rolls his hips forward and sinks in a few more inches, clutching me and holding me close.
I nuzzle into his chest, holding his torso tight, urging him to slide all the way home.
