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I slid my hand up his thigh. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
He laughed softly, a hint of a blush darkening the flush in his cheeks. Leaning down, he purred, “You’re one to talk.”
Then he had my mouth, and I wrapped my arms around him, and we kissed as he slowly found a steady rhythm. I fucking loved this man. Everything about him. We fit together perfectly in every way, and sex had never been better than it was with him. Much like I knew every place that could make him squirm, he knew the same about me, and right now, he was doing that thing with his hips that always turned my spine to liquid. I couldn’t even put my finger on what it was, only that it was an almost guaranteed way to have me on the edge of orgasm in seconds. I wasn’t a minuteman, but if Owen wanted a quickie, I absolutely could be.
He didn’t want a quickie, though. He had me close to that edge, enough that I could barely find my breath, but he stayed just slow enough not to send me over. It was frustrating and mind-blowing at the same time. I knew from experience he could keep me there for ages, riding me just shy of oblivion until he was good and ready to take me there, and oh, fuck, I was here for it. Every roll of his hips, every slide of my dick inside him, was forgiveness and atonement. We still had a lot of work to do before we were back on solid ground, but this was everything we needed in this moment. Gentle intimacy. Breathless affection. The delicious feedback loop as we kept turning each other on.
I didn’t care how much work it took. I wasn’t going to lose this man again.
Owen shivered, pushing himself up on his arms. His lips were parted and his eyes were closed, and I recognized that furrow in his brow.
I pressed my heels into the mattress and thrust up into him, and just like I’d hoped, his eyes flew open and he moaned. I’d expected the reaction, and yet it hit me like the first time all over again, sending a rush of arousal and need through me along with a giddyoh my God, I’m doing this to youfeeling.
So, I did it again. And again. I wanted Owen to be a shaking, whimpering mess, and in no time, that was exactly what he was, throwing his head back and crying out as he begged me to keep going, keep going, almost there, keep going…
“Oh fuck, baby,” he slurred. “You’re gonna make me come. I’m… oh, God…”
I was absolutely mesmerized. My own orgasm was closing in fast, and I’d probably lose it when he did, but hell if I was coming before that. “Come, Owen. Take me there with you.”
That drew a low moan out of him, and he shuddered hard enough to break our rhythm for half a second. He was impossibly tight around me now, and I fucked him for all I was worth, and—
“Oh, God, I’m—Fuuuck!” Owen tensed all over, and then his whole body jerked, and cum landed on my stomach.
There was no holding back after that. I dug my teeth into my lip and fucked into him a few more frantic times before I, too, was coming, thrusting deep inside him as I cried out his name and God only knew what else as bliss took over.
I relaxed back onto the mattress. Owen slumped over me. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him the rest of the way down, and I closed my eyes as we both just trembled and breathed.
No, I didn’t cry.
But I held on to Owen like we’d just found each other after some cataclysm. Like we’d been wandering through a debris-littered landscape, not sure if there was any hope at all but refusing to give up.
Somehow… we’d found each other again.
And I wasn’t letting go this time.
Chapter 17
Owen
For the first time in three long days—hell, the first time in a whole goddamned year—my world feltright.
Lying in my bed beside Matteo, I was home. Everything around me was familiar again, and the man I loved was here.
It should’ve been surreal to be with him again. Maybe it was, but not in the sense of,how the fuck did that happen?More like I hadn’t realized how off-kilter my world was without him until we’d found our way back to each other.
Yes, Matteo had royally screwed up. Yes, cheating was still a red line for me.
But the last few days had offered some perspective there. On some level, I’d always assumed Matteo just didn’t care. That he’d cheated, walked away, and moved on like a damn psychopath. I should’ve known better, though. The fact that he’d been the one to come clean should’ve been a clue. If he’d never told me, I wouldn’t have known. I hadn’t suspected a thing until he told me we needed to talk. He could’ve easily pretended everything was fine, and the last year could’ve played out very differently.
He hadn’t, though. He also hadn’t had sex with me the night he’d come home because he’d felt too guilty. If he hadn’t actually cared about me or felt bad, wouldn’t he have taken me up on the offer for sex—because I’d sure wanted it that night—and then told me the truth later?
Yeah, he’d fucked up… once. If I’d walked away from this most recent experience with anything, it was the firm belief that he wouldn’t do it again. For Matteo, cheating had been the equivalent of touching a hot stove—he got burned more than enough to convince him not to do it again.
Still, I didn’t want to be naïve about this.
I shifted onto my side and laced our fingers together on Matteo’s chest. “So… are you still good with going to counseling for this?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “Anything you need from me, and I think agreeing to counseling is about theleastI can do.”
