102. Chapter 102
one hundred two
T he sheets were already tangled around their legs, the room warm with the scent of skin and closeness. Monroe lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, trailing her fingers slowly across Chloé’s bare stomach, just watching her.
“You’re staring,” Chloé said softly, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
“That’s because I can’t quite believe you’re here,” Monroe replied, voice hushed. Her hand stilled, fingers splayed against Chloé’s ribs. “And naked in my bed.”
Chloé turned her head, their noses almost touching. “I could say the same. Though I prefer you this way.”
Monroe laughed quietly, her mouth brushing against Chloé’s. “You planning to stay a while?”
“Mm,” Chloé murmured, her hand slipping up to cup Monroe’s cheek, “long enough to make you forget I was ever gone.”
Their lips met—slow, exploratory, full of promises. Chloé shifted beneath her, a soft sound escaping her throat as Monroe deepened the kiss, hands already roaming, relearning.
Monroe pulled back slightly, breath catching. “I missed this. I missed you.”
Chloé looked up at her, serious now. “Then take your time. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
Monroe’s breath warmed the curve of Chloé’s neck as she trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. Chloé’s fingers threaded into Monroe’s hair, tugging gently, guiding her, skin to skin, their bodies pressed together, a familiar rhythm already beginning to pulse between them.
“I want to feel everything,” Chloé whispered, voice low and aching.
“You will,” Monroe promised, her words feathering over Chloé’s skin like a gentle touch.
She kissed a path down, tasting the soft curve of Chloé’s breast, her tongue flicking gently before her mouth closed around her nipple. Chloé arched, her breath catching, one leg slipping between Monroe’s as her muscles flexed and tensed.
Monroe moved with unhurried focus, as if she were reminding them both what it meant to belong—here, like this, with no screens between them, no hours lost to distance.
Chloé’s hands roamed too, fingers dancing over Monroe’s back and hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Their mouths met again, deeper this time—urgent, messy, full of want and knowing.
Monroe shifted, sliding her thigh higher between Chloé’s legs, and the low moan Chloé let out was all the encouragement Monroe needed. Her lips found Chloé’s again. Chloé’s hands gripped her waist, anchoring them together as she rocked, need building in small, breathless waves.
The room filled with the sound of them—soft gasps, whispered names, the rustle of sheets. Time blurred.
Their breaths gradually evened out, bodies still warm and tangled beneath the sheets. Monroe lay with her head resting on Chloé’s shoulder, one leg draped over her, fingers lazily tracing circles on her stomach.
“So,” Monroe murmured, her voice hushed in the quiet room, “how long can you realistically stay? And when will you need to be back?”
Chloé turned her head, pressing a kiss to Monroe’s hair. “I don’t have any plans to leave.”
Monroe tilted her chin up, searching Chloé’s eyes.
“I mean it,” Chloé said, brushing a strand of hair behind Monroe’s ear. “Right now, I’m here. I’ll go back when I need to, maybe when we make space for me here and I go to bring my things back, but I’m not counting days or setting a return flight. I just want to be here. With you.”
Monroe smiled, something settling in her chest. Hope, maybe? Or peace? “Good,” she said softly, curling closer. “Stay as long as you want.”
Chloé tightened her arms around Monroe. “That might be forever, you know.”
Monroe closed her eyes and let the words settle like a promise. “I can live with that.”