Katie
His words hang in the air as he eases me down onto the bed.
My back sinks into the mattress, the sheets cool against my heated skin, but his body follows, covering mine.
I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer because right now, he’s the only thing keeping me from shattering completely.
Michael’s tongue slides against mine making my breath catch. His hands roam my sides, pushing up the hem of my shirt, exposing my stomach to his touch. I arch up, needing more. He tugs the fabric over my head and tosses it aside. His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers racing across my body.
“I need you,” I whisper, my voice thick with tears, as I fumble with his shirt, yanking it free.
His chest is warm under my palms. He shifts, helping me undress him, then works on my pants, sliding them down my legs along with my panties.
He settles between my thighs, his cock hard and pressing against me, but he doesn’t rush.
Instead, he kisses my collarbone, my breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking softly until I moan, the sound muffled against his hair.
My hands slide down his back, urging him on, and he lifts his head, eyes locking with mine.
“I love you, Katie.”
I nod. “I love you too.”
Slowly, he pushes in with a gentleness that draws a gasp from my lips.
He’s fills me inch by inch, and I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him deep.
We move together like that, his hips rocking into mine.
Each thrust sends waves of warmth through my grief.
Tears slip from my eyes, but he kisses them away, his breath hot on my cheek.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, one hand cradling my face while the other is braced above my head.
The pleasure builds gradually, coiling tight, mingling with the sobs that shake my body. I rock up to meet him, clenching around him. It’s not frantic; it’s healing. Each slide of him inside me pushes back the darkness just a little.
My orgasm washes over me in quiet pulses. He follows soon after, thrusting deep and coming with a low groan. We stay locked together, his weight a comforting anchor as our breaths mingle in the quiet room.
“Thank you,” I say pressing my face into his neck.
Still on top of me, he brushes my hair back from my face with both hands and kisses me.
“You are mine to take care of. You don’t ever have to ask or thank me.”
“Michael, I will always thank you.”
He smiles gently.
“And you have to accept it,” I tell him.
“Do I?”
His body is pressed into mine, and I know it’s the closest I’ll get to feeling like we’re fused together. I nod my head.
“Why’s that?” He grins.
“Because I outrank you.”
“You definitely do,” he says, smiling again before he presses his mouth to mine. “Do you want to shower before breakfast now?”
“Yes.”
He rolls off of me and reaches for my hand, and I take it as he pulls me up from the bed.
I stay close to him as he leads me into the bathroom.
He turns on both shower heads, and the water starts.
They both run at the same time, and the water stays hot from both sides.
I love that we can stand in here together, and neither of us gets cold.
I step inside, and he follows behind me, his fingers dragging along my hip as he moves to his side.
I let the water hit my back, tipping my head into it and closing my eyes.
The pressure sinks in, digging into my shoulders, running down my spine, working its way into places I didn’t realize were tight.
When I open my eyes, Michael is watching me as he works shampoo into his hair.
He smiles and winks at me. I cross the few feet between us and rise onto my toes, pressing my mouth to his.
His hand settles at my waist while my fingers wrap around his biceps, holding on as I kiss him.
Then I step back under my showerhead and finish washing up.
After, I stand in the closet in nothing but a towel, staring at the rows of clothes he’s bought for me. It should probably scare me, how much thought he’s put into me being here, but it doesn’t. It feels right.
He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “What do you need from me today?”
I turn into him. “I need to call the facility. I just dropped the phone last night. I would assume she’s at the morgue—“
I stop. The word leaves a bitter taste behind.
“Hey,” he says, rubbing my arms. “It’s okay. I can call.”
I swallow hard. “Okay.”
“What about a funeral home? Did she have one picked out?”
I nod. “I don’t know.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force the tears back, but they push through anyway.
“We’ve got this, Doll,” he says, softer now. “You’re not doing any of it by yourself.”
“Thank you.” I press my forehead into his chest and pull in a shaky breath.
The realization hits me.
“I don’t have any money to pay for a funeral.”
The words come out too fast, like if I don’t say them now, I won’t be able to at all. The sob follows right behind it. Michael pulls me back, lowering himself until we’re eye to eye.
“You don’t have to worry about any of that. Do you understand me?”
“Michael—“
He shakes his head once. “No. You’re mine. That means this is mine too.”
I don’t know what else to say other than, “I love you.”