Chapter 60Avery
Chapter Sixty
Avery
I'm standing at the threshold of my home, a place that's been my safe haven, my fortress of solitude. But as I fumble with the keys, Victor beside me, there's a flutter in my chest that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. It's like I'm unlocking more than just a door—I'm unlocking a future that I've kept bolted shut for so long.
"Scary, isn't it?" I mumble, mostly to myself.
Victor gives me a curious glance, his piercing blue eyes searching mine for something deeper than the words I've let slip. "What is?"
"Letting someone in. Really in," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I push the door open, stepping into the familiar darkness of my living room, but it feels different this time. Electric. Alive. Victor's presence fills up the space, makes it warmer somehow.
"Hey," he says softly, reaching for my hand. His touch sends a tingle up my arm. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
But as I look around at the walls that have shielded me from the world, at the worn sofa that's cradled my lonely nights, I realize that maybe I've been waiting for him all along. That every heartache and hurdle was leading me here, to this moment.
"Maybe I've always been ready," I confess, my voice steadier than I feel. "Just... didn't know it was you I was waiting for."
A ghost of a smile plays on Victor's lips, a hint of the boy who learned to skate on a frozen pond, who found joy in the glide of blades on ice even when life gave him little else to smile about. The same boy who grew up to build walls around his own heart, walls I never thought I'd see crumble.
He steps closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with the crisp winter air still clinging to his jacket. He reaches up, his fingers gentle as they brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. His touch lingers, tracing the line of my jaw before his hand cups my cheek. There's a tenderness there that speaks volumes, that says everything his guarded heart has kept silent.
Then, Victor leans in, his breath warm against my lips before they meet mine in a kiss that's soft yet insistent. It's a conversation without words, each press of his lips a sentence, a story, a promise. I melt into him, letting go of the fears that have held me back.
We stand there, in the quiet embrace of my home, communicating in the language of touch and taste and shared breath. And I know, beyond any doubt, that everything he wants to say, everything I need to hear, is right here in this kiss.
Victor's kiss deepens, a fervent declaration that stirs something wild within me. His hands, firm and assuring, roam my back as if memorizing every curve, every edge of my vulnerability. I'm lost in the moment, in him, and there's no other place I'd rather be.
"Bedroom," he murmurs against my lips, a single word laden with unspoken promises.
"Okay," I whisper back, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
We navigate through the dimly lit hallway, our steps a silent dance guided by the pulsing connection between us. My bedroom door swings open, and the familiar sanctuary of my private space becomes the backdrop for this new, intimate chapter with Victor.
He turns to face me, his eyes dark with desire. We're both breathless, but it's not just from the kiss. It's anticipation, it's the unknown, it's everything we've been fighting against and finally surrendering to. Slowly, reverently, we begin to undress each other. Each article of clothing that falls away feels like shedding layers of our past hesitations.
But as the cool air hits my skin, I shiver, an involuntary response that has nothing to do with the temperature. Victor notices immediately, and his protective instincts kick in. With a gentle tug on my hand, he leads me toward the en suite bathroom.
"Let's warm you up," he says, a caring lilt in his tone that makes my heart swell.
In the bathroom, he flicks on the shower, steam quickly filling the small space. He steps in first, extending his hand to me. I take it without hesitation, stepping into the warmth with him. The water cascades over us, a comforting blanket that seems to wash away any lingering doubts or fears.
"Better?" Victor asks, his voice soft amidst the sound of the running water.
"Much," I reply, finding solace in his enveloping presence.
Water droplets trace the contours of our bodies, mingling with the heat that radiates between us. Victor's hands roam over my wet skin, learning every dip and curve as if committing them to memory. His touch is tender, worshipful, igniting tiny flames wherever his fingers linger. I close my eyes, allowing myself to be swept away by the sensation of being the sole focus of his attention.
"Beautiful," he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot on my damp skin. I tilt my head back, giving him access, craving more of his gentle exploration.
His lips follow the path blazed by his hands, descending with agonizing slowness. When he reaches my breasts, he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in a way that sends a direct signal of pleasure down to my core. My knees buckle slightly, but he's right there, holding me steady.
"Victor..." I gasp, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Shh," he soothes, kissing his way lower, down my stomach. He sinks to his knees, the tiles cool under his skin, but he doesn't seem to notice or care. All that matters is this moment, this connection.
When he reaches the apex of my thighs, I'm trembling with need. His blue eyes lock onto mine, seeking permission for what comes next. I nod, unable to form words, completely entrusting myself to him.
His tongue finds me, and I bite back a moan, my fingers threading through his wet hair, holding him to me. Victor's movements are deliberate, unhurried, driving me toward the edge with an exquisite mix of flicks and laps. Pressure builds within me, coiling tighter and tighter until?—
"Victor, I'm?—"
The world shatters into a kaleidoscope of pleasure as I come undone under his ministrations. My legs shake, my breath catches, and for a blissful moment, nothing else exists but the two of us and the water that continues to rain down upon us.
As the waves of my orgasm subside, Victor rises, his body slick against mine. "You okay?" he asks, his voice husky.
"More than okay," I breathe out, still reeling from the intensity of the experience.
He positions himself at my entrance, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. We move together, slowly at first. Each thrust is a promise, a silent vow that speaks louder than any words could. The slowness is maddening, intoxicating, building me back up piece by piece until arousal courses through me once again.
"Victor," I whisper, my nails digging into his shoulders as I meet his thrusts.
"Let me take care of you," he says, his voice laced with emotion and something deeper, something like a pledge. It's scary letting someone into my life, my home, my heart this way, but with Victor, it feels like coming home.
The rhythm of our bodies finds a new urgency, Victor's thrusts gaining momentum. My heart pounds against my ribcage, each beat in sync with his increasing pace. He looks into my eyes, that piercing blue setting fire to my soul, and I'm swept away on a tide of desire.
"Victor," I gasp, the pleasure cresting again .
"Come for me, Avery," he commands softly, and it's all the push I need.
My world narrows to this moment, to the feel of him inside me, driving us both towards the edge. And then I'm there, crying out as ecstasy seizes me again, waves crashing over me in relentless succession.
"Ah, Chestnut..." His voice breaks as his own climax overtakes him, his body shuddering against mine with the force of it.
After a moment suspended in time, we slow down, our breathing evening out. The shower is still running, warm droplets cascading over us like gentle rain. Victor's hands roam tenderly over my body, his touch softening to something reverent. He reaches for the shampoo, pouring it into his palm before working it through my hair with care.
"Feels nice," I murmur, closing my eyes and leaning into his touch.
"Everything for you," he says, his words stitching up old wounds I had long accepted as part of me.
He rinses my hair, his fingers deft and gentle, then takes the soap and glides it across my skin, washing away any remnants of doubt or fear. This man, who grew up with so little trust to give, now offers it all to me without hesitation.
"Ready to get out?" he asks once we're both clean and the water has turned cool .
"Definitely," I agree, eager for the warmth of the bed waiting for us.
Victor turns off the water and steps out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. His hands are careful as he dries me off, not missing a single spot. Then, he shrugs on a bathrobe, its fabric rough against his smooth skin, and leads me back into the bedroom where the sheets beckon invitingly.
"Let's get you warm," he says, tucking me into bed before sliding in beside me.
Under the covers, our bodies entwine naturally, the heat from our skin mingling. His presence is a fortress, strong and unyielding, yet within his arms, I find a sanctuary—a place where I am cherished, protected, loved.
His arm is a comforting weight around my shoulder, pulling me closer into the warmth of his chest. The soft rhythm of his heartbeat is a lullaby that could easily carry me off to sleep, but there's a question that's been nagging at the back of my mind, one I need an answer to before I can fully settle.
"Victor," I start, my voice barely above a whisper, yet he hears me, always so attuned to my every breath. "You still want to spend Christmas with me and Olivia? After... everything?"
He shifts slightly, propping himself on one elbow to look down at me. His blue eyes search mine in the dimly lit room, earnest and unwavering. "Avery, there's nothing I would want more in this world."
Relief washes over me, easing the tension that I hadn't realized I'd been holding onto. We sink back into the pillows, the quiet of the night wrapping around us like a cocoon. The thought of Victor being part of our little family feels like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
"Olivia's going to be thrilled," I murmur, thinking about my daughter's boundless energy. "She's so excited for the first playoff game tomorrow."
"Those kids have all been amazing this season," he says. There's a note of pride in his voice that makes me smile. "They've made so much improvement."
"I'd say it's all thanks to their incredible coach." My words are teasing, but I mean every one of them.
Victor shakes his head, a chuckle vibrating through his chest. "No, it's all thanks to you, Avery. If you hadn't stood up against my development plans, I wouldn't have had any reason to step back onto the ice."
"Guess we make a pretty good team then," I say softly, feeling the truth of it deep in my bones.
"Best team I've ever known," he whispers back, kissing the top of my head gently.
And as his arms hold me close, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling me, I let myself drift off, safe in the knowledge that whatever tomorrow brings, I'm no longer alone.