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Fantasize about it.
It’s all that occupies my brain.
Sure, I’m plenty busy.
Between the appointments with the pricy in-house physical therapist he hired, Trent helps me do exercises to strengthen my ribs and foot. I’m always exhausted. Pushing my body to recover.
My concussion is gone, which is good, and I’m healing nicely.
I’ll probably even be able to stop wrapping my ankle soon. I’m lucky it isn’t a break, just a sprain.
The truth is, I don’t need to work with a physical therapist, but Trent wants to make sure I’m strong, and I humor him.
Although he’s made no attempt to be physically intimate with me again, he spends a lot of time with me. Whether we’re eating, reading, or watching TV together, he’s by my side often. He works in his home office instead of driving to his company’s building. If I need him, I know he’ll be at my side within seconds.
Reading to me is one of those things that he started to do after the concussion, but I’ve grown so accustomed to it now. Every night, as I settle into bed, he sits by my side, and I curl in close to his body, and he reads in that gravelly, deep voice of his.
It’s sheer perfection.
The only thing that would be more perfect is if, after this chapter is done, he made a move. But I think he’s trying to prove his self-restraint first—I’m just not sure if he’s trying to prove it to me or himself.
Tonight, I wait for him to finish before I pounce, ripping the book from his hands and throwing it across the bed.
I am tired of waiting.
The kiss is slow at first.
His lips on mine, my mouth parting his.
Then we start to move together. It reminds me of a very slow dance. One you spend months preparing for, and as you finally start to move, your heart beats faster, and you feel like your eyes are closed, and you are left spinning.
It’s exhilarating.
Our tongues circle.
The kiss deepens and becomes desperate.
Months of pent-up emotions pour into it.
I allow myself to become lost in the kiss. I allow it to wash over the past. To erase the pain and hurt I felt at the hands of this man. At the hands of everyone else, too.
I get swept away in the moment.
I think only of the good things.
The things about Trent that make him a good man. The tenderness in his eyes right now. Every piece of him I see that others don’t.
I bask in that feeling, in that warmth.
He tightens his embrace around me, pulling me closer to him, wrapping his arms tighter around me.
There is no separation between our bodies now.
A moan escapes my lips.
“Are you okay?” he asks against my mouth.
“Yes,” I mutter back.
