Chapter 28 #2
This time, he doesn’t answer. He kisses me. The second kiss is deeper. Slower.
Less careful now that neither of us is pretending this isn’t happening anymore.
My hands slide into his hair without thinking about it. His fingers tighten at my waist like he’s been waiting for permission he didn’t know he needed. Suddenly, the distance between us disappears completely in a way that makes the entire room feel smaller than it did a minute ago.
He keeps pausing long enough to look at me between kisses, like he’s checking that I’m still there with him every step of the way, like this matters as much to him as it does to me.
“Lisa,” he says quietly.
“Yes.”
“You can still stop me.”
“I’m not going to,” I answer.
And I’m not.
Not even a little.
By the time we reach the edge of the bed, I don’t even remember crossing the room.
I only remember the warmth of his hands and the way he keeps saying my name like it’s something important instead of something ordinary, like being here with me means more to him than just tonight.
He moves slowly.
Carefully.
Not because he’s unsure. Because he’s paying attention. To me. To every reaction. To every breath.
And that gentleness makes something inside my chest ache in the best possible way.
“You ok?” he asks softly.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Tell me if anything feels too fast.”
“It doesn’t,” I say.
Nothing about this feels fast. If anything, it feels like something we’ve been walking toward for weeks without realizing it.
My hands find the front of his shirt before I even realize I’m moving. I’m pulling him closer until the warmth of him replaces the last bit of space between us. I slowly take his shirt off and look at him.
He kisses me again, deeper this time, one hand settling at my waist as if he’s still careful of the balance between holding me close and giving me room to change my mind if I need it, and the awareness of that restraint makes my chest ache in a way I don’t expect.
“You’re still recovering,” I murmur, my fingers brushing carefully over his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” he says quietly.
His forehead rests briefly against mine before he kisses me again, slower now, like he’s not thinking about anything except the two of us standing here together after everything that almost kept us from getting here at all.
Blake takes the straps of my dress and lets it drop to the floor. I giggle as I am suddenly standing in front of him in nothing but my lingerie.
“I need you,” Blake whispers, sending a rush of excitement through me.
I undo Blake’s belt and let his pants fall to the floor.
His hands touch me everywhere. When they land on my back, he quickly takes off my bra.
“I need you too,” I pant, and that seems to do it. Blake moves a little faster, more needy, and I love it.
He gently pushes me onto the bed and grabs my waist. He rolls my thong off my body, and while he is standing in front of me, he drops his boxers.
I can’t help but look at him and blush. Blake has a smirk on his face, and I want to roll my eyes, but I can’t. I need him more than he knows, and I want him to feel it.
Slowly, Blake crawls on top of me. His body is big and warm.
“Lie on your back,” I suggest softly, and Blake tilts his head, confused. “I don’t want to worry about pressure on your shoulder. I want to enjoy this,” I smile cheekily, and Blake listens. He lets himself fall onto the mattress next to me, and when he does, I crawl onto him.
I put my legs on either side of him and slowly lower my hips. Blake glides into me and grunts.
“That’s it,” he smirks as I slowly start moving my hips. I enjoy every second of feeling him inside of me and can’t help but moan. I feel the grip of Blake’s hands tighten on my waist when I do.
I answer him by moving faster, moaning louder as my body responds to his.
“Keep going,” Blake whispers, and it drives me wild. I’m moving faster and faster while a fire builds inside of me.
“Blake,” I pant as I get closer and closer. Blake pushes his hips up and meets my movements. The room is quiet and loud at the same time. I’m almost there, when I can tell Blake can’t take it anymore.
“Lisa,” he groans as he releases into me, and as he does, I let out a scream and come undone.
“Whoa,” I say breathless while I rest my head on the neck of his shoulder.
“Damn right,” Blake laughs.
“We should take a trip more often,” I suggest, making Blake laugh even louder.
“How about we start with every weekend?” Blake returns, and I chuckle.
I lie down next to Blake on the bed. The room is quiet again except for the distant sounds of Nashville outside the windows.
I’m lying beside him with my head resting against his chest, listening to his breathing slow back to normal.
At the same time, his fingers trace lazy circles along the tattoo on my arm like he’s not ready to let go of the moment yet.
For a while, neither of us speaks. Not because there's nothing to say. Because there's so much, and none of it needs to be said quickly.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“Hey,” he answers.
I tilt my head up to look at him. He's already looking at me.
“I love you,” I tell him.
It comes out quieter than I expected. And more certain.
He doesn't smile right away. He just looks at me for a moment, like he's making sure he heard it correctly, like he wants to keep it exactly as it is before he does anything to change the shape of it.
Then he says, “I love you too.”
Simple. No preamble. No joke waiting behind it.
Just that.
I rest my head back against his chest and close my eyes. His arm tightens slightly around me, careful still of his shoulder, and I feel the warmth of his palm against my back settle into something that feels a lot like permanence.
I smile against his shoulder.
Outside, Nashville is still going. Music from somewhere down the street finds its way up through the window, faint and warm and unhurried.
Neither of us moves.