10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
W hat? What’s missing?” I ask, desperate to find a solution to our problem.
“I think—” He pauses, stares off into the distance. “I think it’s love. That’s what we’re missing.”
I snort a bitter laugh. “Kinda hard to fall in love, given these circumstances. Besides, you’re already in love, with your wife.”
“I used to think I was in love with her. Now, I’m not sure, not even sure I know what love is.” T hesitates, rubbing his palm over his jaw. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore,” he admits. “It started for her. To prove I was worth staying for. But now…” His eyes flick to mine. “Now, I don’t know if I want to be fixed for her. I think I want to be fixed for me.”
His gaze finds mine, something fragile and real flickering there. “And I want you to feel fixed too, for yourself.”
My heart melts at that, his kindness. How he’s not just thinking about himself in this moment, but about me as well. We gaze at each other, and I feel a connection between us solidify. It hums with life, impossible but undeniable. It’s been growing since we first touched. Since he first whispered my name. Since I first let him in.
T hesitates, like he’s fighting something inside himself. “I know this isn’t forever. I understand we just met and don’t really know each other, but I have feelings for you. They probably won’t last past today, and normally I’d ignore them until they went away, but what if that’s the thing we need? What if—just for now—I could love you, and you loved me back? Not as a promise. Not as a lie. Just as…this. What we are, here in this room. Two people searching for something they’ve never been given. Something we have to fight for—together.”
A lump rises in my throat. My mind protests, tells me this is reckless, that I should guard myself. But my body, my heart, they already know the answer. It was in my daydream, with the dates and the proposal, the baby. It’s true, I don’t know him at all, yet somehow I do. This experience has been so outside the realm of normal that my emotions have snowballed quickly, coalesced into something that feels very much like love.
He says it hesitantly, like he’s testing out the words. “I love you, K.” Another kiss to my forehead, so tender and sweet. “It’s not forever, not meant to last, but it’s real. It’s here inside of me. I can’t explain it. I don’t want to. Let’s just let it be.”
It’s been years since I was loved, so long ago that I don’t remember what it feels like. I’ve been admired, lusted after, used, and thrown away, but never loved. I let his words sink into me, absorb them through my skin and into my soul.
“I love you too.” I say it with more confidence than T did, maybe because my feelings are clearer, less muddled from being attached to someone else. I lift my hand and skim it along his cheek. “Just for now, and that’s okay. It’s crazy, though, isn’t it? To care about you this quickly?”
He dips his head, touches his forehead to mine. “This whole thing is crazy—doesn’t make it any less real.”
His mouth finds mine, and I let myself sink into it, let myself feel it, all of it.
The tenderness. The hunger. The warmth of his hands and the steady strength of his body.
The way he makes me feel like I matter.
His lips are salty from my tears. His tongue brushes mine, and the air around us shifts, becomes charged and electric. His hands slide down my body, stroking, soothing.
“Let me love you, just for now.” His voice catches on the words.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “Love me.”
He keeps on kissing me, lazy and slow. Like we have the entire day, a lifetime, to explore this new thing between us. I run my hands up and down his back, marveling at the solidness of him, at how his body is hard but his heart is soft.
His hand dips between my legs, and a gasp spills from my lips and colors explode behind my eyelids. I’m soaked down there, so ready for him, more than I’ve ever been. We shift together, my thighs parting like an invitation, my body welcoming his. When he slides inside, a long, shuddering breath leaves him, like he’s just come home.
He makes love to me the same way he kissed me, slow and sweet, as if he wants to savor it, make it last. Each movement is deliberate yet delicate, like I matter, as if he wants to treat me gently. Every few minutes, he sends me a tender glance, checking to see if I’m still with him, if I’m okay.
This time there’s no pressure. No urgency. I’m not thinking about how to please him or how to force my body to respond. I’m not second-guessing myself or overanalyzing every touch, every breath, every shift between us.
Instead, I think about the way he described me as beautiful, smart, and brave. Words I’ve never truly heard, not when they were spoken by others, not even when I tried to tell them to myself. But when T said them, they felt different. Like he meant them.
“Love you,” he repeats into my skin, my hair, and for the first time I don’t question it. I just let myself believe that I’m the person he described.
Someone worth loving.
“Love you,” I sigh back, soaking in the sight and sound of him. Mint and sunshine and tan skin that’s rough in all the right places.
T hums, gives me a small smile. “This feels good, K. I want to stay in you forever.”
Forever .
What a beautiful word. It seems like something I should pay attention to, analyze, fear.
But I don’t.
Because right now, there’s only this. The slick slide of his body against mine, the pressure building between us. The heat, the need. The way my pulse pounds in my ears as my body tightens around him.
I don’t have to think. Don’t have to worry about what happens when this is over.
I just let go.
“So good,” I slur, my mind consumed by the fire that’s building deep inside me, lit by T’s words of love, the honeyed sensation of him moving in and out slow as molasses but gaining speed now.
His fingers stroke between my legs, circling, pressing, teasing. “Tell me what you want.”
I whimper, twisting against him, my body surging into his touch. Then I remember our lesson on communication. “I need you to touch my clit.”
He smiles at me, like he’s proud, then brings his hand between us to flick my clit, sending an ache spiking through my body.
“Oh God,” I pant. “Yes.”
His pace quickens, his lips trailing down my throat.
It’s happening—finally, finally happening.
“Shit,” he gets out. “It’s—you’re incredible, so beautiful.” He moves faster, his hip bones dancing under my fingers. T swears, driving into me hard, over and over. “I’m getting close.”
Tears leak out of the corner of my eyes as my muscles clench, tighten, until I’m shaking. “Me too.” This is it, the same sensation when I pleasure myself, right before I come. That feeling of careening toward the edge of a cliff, about to fall off the precipice.
“Say it,” T demands, his eyes squeezed tight, his skin flushed. “Say you love me. Come with me. We do this together.”
“Together. I’m coming, T. It’s happening. I love you so fucking much!” The last word leaves my mouth as the orgasm hits me, a tidal wave that drags me under the water, drowning me with sensation. I’m pulsating, quivering, crying out as I lose myself in it.
“Yes. Do it. Love you.” T lets go as well. With a hoarse groan, he gives one, then two more jerks and comes shuddering deep inside me, so hard I feel him fill me up.
Our orgasms seem to go on for a long time, both of us trembling with shivers of pleasure that wrack our bodies.
Finally, he softens and pulls out, leaving a rush of warmth that drips down my thighs. He rolls onto his back, pulling me along with him so I’m draped over his chest with my ear over his heart. I take comfort from the sound, that steady lub-dub.