Page 66 of After Care

“Where else?” he hissed, holding out from filling me again. His fingers stilled as well.

“My heart,” I whispered, and he slid inward, the thrust so fierce I lurched forward, and my hand slipped off the slick tile. I jackknifed forward, but he caught me with an arm around my waist. We both groaned at the increased intensity.

“That’s right, darlin’. You feel me in your heart like I feel you in mine.” He continued to hammer at me, and his fingers developed a matching rhythm. My body gave into his, and I came with a scream. The echo resounded in the shower and both his hands gripped my hips, tugging me back and holding me still as he pulsed inside me, washing my insides as he spilled his seed.

Jagged, rasping breaths forced my racing heart racing to skip a beat. My heart that felt him, that beat for him, sped inside my chest, trying to hold onto him, hoping to never lose the race to be his.

+ + +

We dried off, and Tommy dressed in only his boxer briefs. I’d typically wear flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt in the colder months. Not a sexy image, so I dressed as I had in Hawaii in a nightshirt and panties, cursing the precautionary pantyliner. However, after what we’d done, my inhibitions were gone. Tommy had broken all the barriers.

“I’m exhausted, darlin’. Mind if we turn on that TV and snuggle a bit?” I climbed in bed next to him. He held out an arm, and I curled in close, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart patter.

You feel me in your heart like I feel you in mine. The words warmed me, and I melted against him again. After a few minutes of TV, my mind wandered. I didn’t typically watch television, despite the one in my room, and I had no idea what he was watching. It seemed mindless.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” I said, rolling to press a kiss to his chest. I lay back. It seemed strange to do something so mundane as cuddle in bed and watch television. We hadn’t done that in Hawaii, something so normal, something many couples do. Were we a couple?

“You’re doing it again,” he said, and I shifted my head to look up at him.

“What?”

“You’re going all stiff next to me instead of molding into me. What’s happening here?” He looked down at me, as his arm raised and bent to rest beneath his head.

“I just…it seems a bit surreal that you’re in my house. In my bed. And we’re laying here.” His arm lowered to his side as he gazed at me.

“Want me to leave?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head against his chest, scratching my cheek with the coarse hair of his chest. “No, absolutely not.”

He chuckled. “Okay, beautiful. You don’t need to beg me to stay. I wasn’t leaving unless you physically kicked me out, anyway.” He swiped a hand down my cheek and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “But I’m sensing there is more.”

“It’s…well…I don’t really watch TV.”

He chuckled under me again. “Okay, so what do you do?”

“I read.”

“Latest mystery thriller?” he asked, and my heart leapt that he’d said the same thing to me on the night we met.

“Not exactly,” I answered.

“Well, get the book. Can you read while I watch this show?”

“Sure,” I replied, a bit too excited as I sat up, reached for my e-reader and returned to my original position. How strange it seemed to move around, nearly-naked and uninhibited. How strange it was to balance my tablet on his chest.

“This isn’t working,” I muttered, feeling embarrassed and a bit ridiculous that I thought I could pull off reading next to him. What was I thinking?

His arm stretched behind me. “Roll.”

“What?”

“Roll, so your back is to my side. I can still hold you, but you can balance that thing on the bed.” I did as he said, shifting so my back pressed against his side, my head resting on his arm. Eventually, he bent a knee, and I slipped a leg over his, our inner thighs touching. He watched his show. I read my book, until I came to a particularly steamy scene. The words made my heart race. The pulse between my thighs beat, and I clenched. His leg slowly moved upward and my thigh pressed over his.

I continued to read, the rhythm increasing, and the words titillating. Could people really do that? I wondered as the story took my imagination to a new level. I hadn’t noticed that my leg was slowly dragging over Tommy’s, my inner thigh stroking his, letting the faint curly hairs at the top of his leg tickle the inside of mine.

Despite the movement of my body, I kept reading, the words continuing to stroke my imagination and create a mental picture so vivid I clenched.