Page 131 of Everything But Mine

I push off the door and sway my hips toward him. It’s an awkward thing to attempt in my third trimester, but Eric doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of grace. If his smoldering gaze and the unmistakable outline of his full erection beneath his shorts are anything to go by, he likes the view just fine.

I climb onto the bed, crossing the rumpled sheet until I’m behind him, my eyes still locked on his through the mirror. My belly presses against the lower half of his back as I snake my arms around his middle, holding him tightly against me, then dart my tongue out.

He can’t see what I’m doing with our height difference, but his spine prickles as I trace the outline of his muscles, his eyes rolling under the lids. His right hand reaches back, finding my hip and holding me against him as I keep my mouth against his skin.

Eric rises onto his knees and turns until we’re face-to-face, one hand still gripping my hip, the other sliding into my hair. His fingers curl and gently tug my head back until I’m looking directly at him.

That’s when every muscle in my body locks. My breath catches.

Eric, shirtless and on his knees. Desire clouding his eyes.

I can’t breathe.

His eyes flicker over my face, sensing the shift before he understands it. He leans closer, his nose brushing mine, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine.

I’m frozen, unable to close the distance. Unable to move past this.

No matter how many times I tell myself that right now is nothing like right then, my body doesn’t believe me. I’m locked in place, unable to do anything but watch. Except what I see isn’t now.

His brows draw together as he searches my face.

“You were on your knees,” I whisper, the words scraping past my dry throat.

Eric’s expression shifts from confusion to the self-hatred that comes to him far too easily. I watch the realization hit: the picture he’s pieced together, the memory he’s afraid he’s dragged into this room with us.

He gets off his knees so quickly the mattress bounces beneath me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Eric—”

“I didn’t…” He swallows hard. “I wasn’t thinking.” He forces his eyes to half-mast though he’s squinting through the need to shut them. He grimaces before croaking out, “We never have to⁠—”

“Eric.”

He stops pacing, still close enough to the bed that I can wrap my fingers around his wrist. When I tug him back toward me, he resists for a second, then sits beside me, dragging a hand through his hair.

His arm is tense beneath my fingers, and his eyes flicker over my face.

“I don’t ever want to bring that back for you.”

“You didn’t do that.” I shake my head. “I carry that night with me, just like you do. You can’t know what will bring it back for me, and I can’t know what will bring it back for you.”

I shift closer until there’s no space between us.

“That night is part of us.” I cup his cheek. “It’s time we own it.”

His brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

“We’re moving forward. We’re not stuck in that ending anymore.” My thumb brushes his cheekbone. “I want to show my body that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. With you. I want it to learn that you on your knees doesn’t mean I’m back there.”

Eric blinks, his concern still there as he studies my face.

“You want us together like that?”

I nod. “I want you behind me. I want to look back and see you there, and know exactly where I am.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”