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“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” I whisper.
“As you wish.” He dips his head, brushing his mouth over mine. It’s so slight, such a tender caress, it’s like being worshipped. Cherished. It strips away the emptiness that’s been weighing me down and fills me with a light so bright it doesn’t feel like my chest can contain it. And finally, finally, I feel like I really am home.
The tears I’ve been fighting since I walked in start to fall.
“Why are you crying?” Wes wipes at them with his thumb.
There are so many reasons, everything from being ashamed of clinging to my anger to being grateful for another chance to being overwhelmed by his love for me. I don’t know how to put that into words, so instead I whisper, “I need you.”
“You have me.” His soft lips sweep over mine once, twice, before he picks me up and cradles me in his arms, carrying me to the bedroom.
Wes sets me on my feet next to the bed and pulls my shirt over my head, running his hands over my arms, shoulders, and up my back like he’s reacquainting himself with my body. His touch sends sparks of arousal through my limbs to my core, waking nerves that haven’t felt the tender burn of a lover’s touch since the last time my skin was exposed to his.
I grab the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head to trail my fingers over his chest and down his stomach, mapping the contours of the six-pack he maintains even though his days on the field are over.
He inhales deeply as my fingers reach the waistband of his shorts, where a tiny trail of hair disappears beneath the material. His cock swells as I tease my fingertips over his skin, the thin material of his athletic shorts offering no barrier to prevent his hard length from rubbing against me.
Wes’s fingers tug the straps of my bra off my shoulders seconds before his hands trail down my back to unhook the clasp. It falls to the floor between us as his large hands cup my breasts, kneading them with his strong fingers. I utter a needy moan.
He urges me onto the bed so he can remove my pants and settles between my legs, licking his lips as he stares at my center. He’s going to put his mouth on me, something we never did before, and my body burns with anticipation.
I watch as he parts my folds and leans forward to drag his tongue over my clit. A wave of heat shoots through my body before settling in my core with a pulsating hum. My clit throbs as my hips buck involuntarily. Wes pulls back.
“Too much?”
“No,” I pant. “I just wasn’t expecting it to feel that good.”
He gives me a satisfied grin before resuming his exploration, alternately flicking his tongue back and forth and circling the sensitive bud.
Holy shit!I remember the pressure of Wes’s fingers or the weight of his body bringing me pleasure before, but that was nothing like what I feel right now. The heat of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, the suction of his lips. I’m floating and falling, suspended between the need to let go and the desire to hang on. I don’t know which I want, so I hold my body tense in the hope I’ll linger right where I am.
My hands grip the comforter in a desperate attempt to keep my hips from thrashing, but it’s not enough. I cry out, loud, long, and breathless, too lost in my body to stay silent.
“Fuck that’s hot,” Wes growls against my skin. “Don’t stop. Let me hear you.”
It hits me then that in the stolen moments we found before some part of us must have always been afraid of getting caught, so we never fully let go. Consequently, neither of us really knows how we sound when our bodies take control. With that realization, I relax fully, giving my body permission to feel everything without restraint.
As I go pliant, Wes sucks me further into his mouth, and I swear I feel his tongue flicking my clit while it’s trapped between his lips. Rhythmic cries erupt from my throat as I thrust my hips up to meet him. He presses a forearm over my stomach to keep me in place, the weight of his hold reaching all the way to my core. That’s when the sensation overwhelms me and I shatter, wave after wave of bliss coursing through me until I sink, breathless and boneless, into the mattress.
The bed dips under Wes’s weight as he crawls beside me, lightly tracing his fingers over my damp skin.
“Thank you.” He exhales.
“For what?”
“For being here, for giving me another chance, for trusting me. All of it.” He brushes a lock of hair away from my forehead.
“Thank you for not giving up.”
“Never.” He pulls off his shorts and rolls on top of me, nudging my legs apart with his knee so he can settle between them, his erection pressing against my opening.
“Am I still the only one?” He asks softly. There’s no judgement in his tone, just affection.
“Yes.”
“I hate that you were hurting all this time, but I’m glad we’ve only ever been with each other.”
All I can do is nod. I got the impression there hadn’t been anyone else, but knowing is a relief.
