Chapter 14
ONE-TIMER: SHOT TAKEN IMMEDIATELY OFF A PASS
Every nerve ignites inside me. I’m trembling under the force of it.
In this fragile moment, all my fears dissolve, pushed aside by one urgent need.
Him. Brennan.
His lips trace a path down my neck as his hands roam over my hips, clutching me against him tightly as if to reassure himself I’m real.
I let out a soft moan as his fingers grip me tighter.
“You feel so good.” He breathes in my ear before nibbling lightly on the lobe.
The sensations send shivers down my spine. He dips his head again, and though I meant to turn away, my heart and soul remember what my mind wants to forget—that I never recovered from the love I had with him.
Brennan was always my everything even if he didn’t consider me his.
His lips touch mine and I fall into the kiss like a woman drowning, helplessly clinging to the memory of us before everything shattered.
That’s when I’m assaulted with his scent —spice mingled with a pinch of citrus. Woodsy.
I come to the realization that this isn’t the scent of Brennan from my past. The pang of emotion that accompanies that thought rattles me enough to shove him back. I stare into his blue eyes deeply before accepting accountability.
His hands relax slightly. “Do you want this? Want me?”
I want this. I want to feel his hands on my body. I want the mindless explosion of sex with him without regret. Tonight, for the first time in so long, I have a chance to regain it.
Instead of answering him, I yank him close enough that I can jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. His strength is unmatched, so I’m not afraid he’s going to let me fall.
At least not physically.
He leans down to kiss me again, tenderness and regret clearly stamped on his face.
I shouldn’t let myself get comfortable. I know this isn’t a fix. It isn’t even a solution. It’s just a reprieve, a warm and desperate echo of the life I would have given everything to build with him.
I deepen the kiss, tasting the salt of tears that I’m not certain are his or mine.
He tears his lips away from mine, breath ragged. I know what he’s going to say before the words pass his lips. “I’ve missed you,” he says.
It's a tragedy because he wouldn’t have had to if he’d just listened to me.
His head ducks down to kiss me again but instead of following his lead, I pull back just enough to slide my hands beneath his sweater.
He removes his hands from balancing me one at a time until I can finally shimmy his sweater over his head. His dark hair falls back into place even as he boosts me higher against the wall. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he mutters.
“Then do something about it,” I challenge him.
One of his hands hooks into the front of my silk pajama bottoms. He mutters, “Need these off of you.”
I unwind my legs from around his waist one at a time as Brennan helps me untangle my pajama bottoms before flinging them off to the side. I situate myself so both legs clutch him against my heat.
It frees his hands so he can drag his fingers along my bare thigh, to cup my full breast. Instead of returning to the frantic pace he teases my nipple by rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The way the silk rubs against my sensitized skin makes me moan.
Brennan, not being satisfied, swiftly undoes each of the buttons of my pajama top, exposing my tattoo of the constellation of Orion. I got it because Orion’s story highlights a journey of guidance, illumination, and foundational strength—like I intended to be as a future teacher.
He drags his lips across it over and over—much the same way he used to when we had all the time in the world in his off-campus apartment. He murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve missed you. Missed your taste.”
Then, I feel his rough hand on the bare skin of my legs. He slides them up, and up, until he reaches the bare skin of my ass.
I lean forward and brush my lips across his collar bone. “Haven’t worn them in years. Too…restrictive.”
A wheezing sound rumbles out of his chest. He skims his hand over my now exposed stomach before dipping his fingers between my legs, his thumb circling my clit.
His thick fingers drag through my wetness. A moan escapes as I arch into him, silently pleading for more. He takes that for the invitation it is, pressing two fingers deep inside.
He rasps, “You’re so tight.”
My only answer is to roll my hips, silently asking for more.
“God, I want to be inside you.” He pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth to taste me. “Do you want me, Amy?”
“Yes.” Because I do. The man in front of me may represent the biggest agony in my life, but he also represents a past I’ve never recovered from.
Helpless, I admit I’ve missed the connection.
Missed the completeness I feel with only Brennan that’s been missing from my other partners.
For one night—hell, for one hour—I need that connection back.
Then, maybe, I can let it, and him, go.
Control snapping, he leans down and captures one of my nipples in his mouth. Sucking deeply, I feel him rolling my nipple with his tongue.
Tunneling my fingers into his hair, I hold him against my breast. That’s when I feel the light bite at the tip and pant, “More.”
“As you wish.” He switches to give attention to my other breast. His other hand drops down to my pussy. Instead of staying there, he gathers up my juices and rubs it over my exposed nipple before leaning in to taste it.
Then, he does this again all while bracing my body against the wall in my entryway.
Damn him for remembering my body so well. For doling out better sex than I’ve had in years. No, Brennan has the skills to make my body remember every single moment of our past intimacy.
All too well.
I’m already on a knife’s edge of an orgasm simply from the foreplay.
Leaving my breasts, he kisses his way up my chest. Notching his head into the curve of my shoulder and neck. I hear the change in his breath. “I need you, Amy.”
Finally. “I’m ready.”
He reaches into his jeans for his wallet. Flipping it open, he whips out a condom. Another piece of the Amy I used to be dies at the sight. Brennan and I dispensed with using condoms the second year into our relationship—knowing we were going to be together forever.
Who knew forever had a time limit.
My thighs tighten around him as he makes quick work of undoing his belt buckle, unsnapping his jeans, before shucking them along with his boxers.
Self-preservation is shouting warnings at me even as need urges me forward. I ignore both of them and focus solely on what Brennan’s making me feel. Our past, temporarily
forgotten and I can’t think about the future.
All I want is now.
The condom he’s been crushing in his hand since he pulled it out makes a quick appearance between his teeth.
Lifting one hand away from me, he makes quick work of sheathing himself.
Lining himself up, he peppers gentle kisses along my jawline.
When he reaches my earlobe, he murmurs, “Are you ready for me to come home?”
Startled, I rear back as he pushes himself inside me in one swift motion. I gasp at the invasion because Brennan’s not a small man but I’m still stuck on the word he used.
Home.
How could he possibly think one act of intimacy will fix what he broke between us? I’m not certain if my body is communicating that message or if he stills to give me a chance to adjust to his girth. Either way, he holds himself steady for a while.
That’s when I feel the thundering of his heart against my exposed chest. I lick my lips before ordering him, “Move.”
He pulls back before pushing forward again in one swift thrust. Soon, he finds a rhythm that has my inner walls clenching tightly around him. Panting heavily, I moan, “God, make me come.”
He thrusts harder. Faster.
I can’t think beyond the feeling of having Brennan thrusting back inside of me. When I lost him, nothing could fill the deepest crevices of my heart. Now, those dark places spark when he buries his head against my neck—breath ragged.
My thighs quiver as he hooks my legs over his arms. That’s when he touches my core, each movement more intense than the last.
His jaw is granite against the side of my face as he gives me more.
I search for his lips again, demanding a taste. On some level, I know this is more than just sex. It’s a deeper connection that’s lain dormant for far too long. I just can’t let myself go there.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He counters each thrust of my tongue with a forward snap of his hips. Urgent but tender. He thrusts harder. Faster.
His hair is damp with sweat as he thrusts over and over. In between, I receive a broken apology that has no place here.
“Sorry.” Thrust. “Should have.” Thrust. “Believed.” Thrust. “You!”
My hips buck frantically at his last thrust, crying out before his muscular torso shudders with pleasure. He releases a groan from deep inside. Still, his hips continue to thrust through his orgasm.
He knows my body too well. Grinding his pelvis into mine, a mew of pleasure escapes my lips before I clench down on his cock.
My orgasm causes me to soar. Even spent, Brennan rides me through it until my whimpers of pleasure change to a hiss of sensitivity.
My eyes drift shut as Brennan’s hips stop moving. I’m spent, and I know he is by the way his head is laying above my heart. His body pins mine to the wall, arm gripping my waist as if he can’t imagine letting me go.
He shifts, gripping the base of the condom as he pulls out of me, freeing me to unlock my legs from around his waist. I gingerly lower them to the floor, as he steps back to deal with the condom–tying it off and wrapping it in a tissue. He quirks his brow in an unspoken question.
I point in the direction of the kitchen directly behind him. “You can throw it out in the trash under the sink.”
I hear the cabinet door open before the sink turns on. As he cleans up, my shaking hands try to do up the buttons to my pajama shirt. I need a barrier between me and him. Between what my heart is longing for and the reality that hasn’t been addressed.
As if I summoned him, he returns from the kitchen. Spying my fingers frantically pushing buttons through holes, he steps closer. “Why are you doing that, Amy? I’m just going to take it off you in a few minutes.”
I slide as far away as I can get in the entry. “Don’t assume sex means acceptance.”
His expression is one of incredulity. “Of course, I wouldn’t think that. I just thought…”
I cut him off before he can say another word. “I need to say something and you need to listen.”