AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Present day
IWAIT, SITTINGon the top step outside Lavender’s door.
She appears at the landing and gives me a small smile. “No breaking and entering this time?”
I grin sheepishly. I could’ve picked the lock, but waiting for her seems symbolic of this new version of us. “Figured it was better if you let me into your space, considering the conversation. Everything okay with River?”
“I think so. He’s spent so much of his life focused on me that he hasn’t looked enough at himself and what he wants. We had that year apart, which was good for both of us, but now that I’m here it’s like we’re right back where we started. He needs to figure himself out, just like we need to figure us out.”
I nod. “I guess I never thought about it like that.” But it makes sense. “Now that you don’t need looking out for, everything has shifted.”
“But he’ll be okay. I think he probably needed someone to tell him it’s okay to live for himself instead of everyone else.”
She holds out her hand, her expression both expectant and the tiniest bit uncertain until I stand and thread my fingers through hers. The connection we’ve always had feels stronger than ever.
She unlocks her door, and we slip inside. The lamp beside her sewing machine is the only light in the room and casts shadows over her face, making it hard for me to read her expression. She links our fingers again and leads me over to her bed, flicking on the light beside it, which washes the pale purple comforter in its soft glow. She turns on her stereo, and the low tones of her favorite band fill the room.
Lavender doesn’t speak as she moves me to sit on the edge of her bed. My heart pounds, and my palms are damp. I wipe them on my thighs and part my legs as she steps into the space. Those vibrant blue eyes meet mine as she sifts her fingers through my hair. I feel the contact through my entire body, all the way to the core of my guilty, fractured soul.
“I missed you so much,” I whisper. “It’s been hell being this close to you and still feeling like we were a million miles apart.”
She nods and inhales a slow, steadying breath as she steps in closer, wrapping her arms around me. I mirror the movement, pulling her into me and feeling the pulse in her throat against my cheek, breathing in her familiar scent.
Lavender traces the infinity symbol up and down the back of my neck, along my spine, and I echo the pattern between her shoulder blades. Our breathing syncs, our heartbeats find a steady rhythm, and we hold on to each other, anchors and buoys.
I turn my face toward her, her pulse thrumming against my lips. We both make a soft, needy sound and chuckle at the same time. Lavender shifts to straddle my lap and begins the torturous process of tracing the contours of my face, her fingers, gentle and warm, skimming my lips and eyes.
I encircle her wrist and kiss the tip of each finger and the faded scars on her palm before I place it against the side of my neck. I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, over the scar that marked a beginning and an ending we never could have predicted.
“I want to take away every hurt I caused, but I don’t know how,” I admit.
She cups my face between her warm palms. “You can start by erasing all the little lies with truths.”
It’s Lavender who tips her chin up and brings my mouth to hers.
My entire universe shifts back into alignment.
Her lips part, and I breathe in her forgiveness as our tongues meet on a soft stroke. I catalogue this moment: the slight weight of her body in my lap, the way her breasts press against my chest, the arch in her spine, the hum of her need vibrating through me, the uneven texture of her bottom lip where the scar is, the taste of watermelon Jolly Rancher, the smell of her sheets, her lavender shampoo, and her vanilla body lotion.
Everything about this has been inevitable—our connection a wire stretched tight to the point of snapping, but with enough strength to survive the tension. We’ve been traveling in a figure eight, passing each other until we finally got the timing right and met in the middle.
The calm I haven’t experienced in years merges with a desire so all-consuming, it feels like I’m melting from the inside. Lavender’s hands slide under the hem of my shirt, pushing the fabric up. She breaks our kiss and tugs it over my head, then removes her shirt. Her bra is the color of her name. It’s made of satin and lace, pretty, delicate.
She takes my hand and places it over her heart—which also means I’m palming her breast—and mirrors the action with her own hand. A small smile tips the corner of her mouth, and she whispers, “Your need is my need.”
It breaks the heavy tension filling the space around us, but only for a few seconds, because we lean in at the same time, mouths connecting once again. I explore her curves, the dip at her waist, the swell of her breasts, and I reach between her shoulder blades to flick the clasp on her bra.
Part of me wants to rush, to get inside her and seal the connection that’s never dissipated, no matter how hard I tried to build a wall between us. You can’t keep out what makes your heart beat in the first place. But everything about the way she touches me is unhurried, slow and gentle, and I respond in kind, stripping down until we’re bared for each other.
She pulls the cover back, and we stretch out on her sheets, legs tangled together, hands roaming as we sink deeper into our kiss. I smooth my palm down her stomach, and she makes the softest sound when I dip between her thighs. I lift my head, eyes on hers as I circle her clit and go lower, easing a finger inside.
Her brow pulls down, and her teeth press into her lip, so close to that scar. She places one hand against the side of my neck, and the other moves down to rest on top of mine.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She shakes her head.
“Keep going?”
