Chapter 29 A Lot Like Forever
A Lot Like Forever
Coleman
Ican feel her breath hitch, feel the way her body melts beneath my hands like it always does.
“You sure?” I ask, voice low, jaw clenched tight, because if she says no now, I’ll stop.
But God help me, I hope she doesn’t.
Her fingers tangle in my shirt, dragging me down until our mouths are a whisper apart. “You already know.”
Fuck.
I crush my mouth to hers, hard and hungry. There’s nothing sweet about it. This is all heat and desperation—weeks of want spilling out in one long, bruising kiss. Her nails claw at my back as I press my thigh between her legs, and she gasps into my mouth.
I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist like she belongs there.
And she does.
She’s still in those damn jeans that have been driving me insane since I saw her in them. I want them gone. Now. I carry her to the bed, lay her back, and my hands are everywhere—palming her thighs, brushing over her hips, dragging my mouth down her neck to that little spot that makes her whimper.
"Take this off," I growl, tugging at her shirt. She peels it off slowly, teasing, like she knows what she’s doing to me.
When the bra comes off, I pause. Just to look. To memorize.
She’s perfect.
Mine.
I lean down, mouth wrapping around her nipple, sucking gently while my hand trails down her stomach and under the waistband of her jeans. She arches off the bed, whispering my name like a prayer.
I growl against her skin, teeth grazing softly. “You’ve been driving me crazy, Remi.”
“Good.”
That mouth. That smart, wicked mouth.
I slide her jeans down and toss them. No panties. Jesus. My control slips another inch.
“You waiting for me, baby?”
She bites her lip and nods.
I curse under my breath and drag my fingers through her slick heat, circling slow and steady until she’s panting, her hips grinding against my hand like she can’t get close enough. I love watching her unravel. Love that I’m the only one who gets to see her like this.
I kiss her again—slow this time—while my fingers work her open and ready.
I want this to last.
But I’m not sure I’ll survive it if it does.
When I finally slide into her, we both groan. She clutches me tighter, gasping as I move slow, deep, making sure she feels every inch of how much I want her. How much I need her.
“Coleman,” she breathes.
I press my forehead to hers. “Say it again.”
She does.
And it sounds a hell of a lot like forever.
Her fingers clutch the sheets when I push deeper. My name falls from her lips again, softer this time—breathless and needy. She wraps her legs tighter around my waist, tilting her hips to take every inch of me like she was made for this… made for me.
“God, Remi…” I grit out, dragging my mouth along her jaw, across her collarbone, until I’m sucking that soft skin just above her breast. “You feel like fucking heaven.”
She moans and arches up, giving me more. Always giving. Always mine.
I draw my hips back slowly, almost all the way out, and then slam back in, making her cry out and clutch at me like she’s coming undone.
I do it again. And again. A rhythm that’s all need and no patience.
Controlled only by the tight grip I have on her hips and the way her nails scrape down my back.
"Harder," she begs.
I answer with a growl, flipping her onto her stomach in one smooth motion. Her breath catches as I drag her hips up, her knees pressed into the bed. She glances over her shoulder, flushed and wrecked, hair tangled, lips swollen.
The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I thrust back into her and her head drops, a choked gasp catching in her throat.
“Coleman—”
“I’ve got you.” My palm slides over her back, down to her ass, gripping, guiding, grounding us both. “I’m not letting you go.”
I pick up the pace, each stroke deep and rough, the sound of our bodies filling the room. Her moans turn desperate—louder, shakier—and I reach around, fingers sliding between her thighs to circle her clit.
She shatters within seconds.
The cry she lets out is wild and raw and perfect.
I don't stop.
I ride her through it, gripping her tighter, chasing my own edge now. The heat coils low in my spine, my breath ragged, sweat beading at my temples as I drive into her, over and over, chasing the high I only ever feel with her.
She pushes back against me, greedy for more. My free hand fists in her hair, gently tugging until her head tips back.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her shoulder, teeth grazing her skin.
"Yours," she whispers, still trembling.
That’s it.
I slam into her one final time, and everything inside me explodes. My body locks up, her name punched out of my lungs as I spill into her, pulse crashing, world tilting.
We collapse forward together.
A tangled, breathless mess.
I kiss her shoulder. Her spine. Her lower back. Every inch I can reach.
And then I just hold her.
Because this isn’t about the sex—not anymore.
It’s about her.
Us.
What comes next.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she knows that.
She’s still catching her breath when I reach over and pull the blanket around us. Her skin is warm against mine, her cheek resting on my chest, and my hand moves in slow circles across her back.
Neither of us speaks at first.
It’s quiet in that way it only ever is when everything is finally right.
But I feel her shift slightly.
Tense.
Just the smallest bit.
Her fingers press into my ribs like she’s bracing herself.
She tries to get up but I tighten my grip around her.
“I just…” she starts, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want the girls to find out like this. I don’t want to confuse them. Or make them think—”
“That you are with me?” I cut in gently.
She lifts her head.
Her eyes flicker over my face, wide and startled. “That’s not what I—”
“They love you. You know that, right? Not in some casual, 'she's fun to have around' way. They trust you. You’re their safe place.”
Her throat moves like she’s trying to swallow down the emotion, and I feel her body curl tighter against mine.
“And as for them knowing about us…” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger there. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll talk to them when it’s time. But I’m not hiding this—hiding you. I don’t want to.”
“You’re not scared they’ll be upset?” she whispers.
“I’m scared of a lot of things,” I admit. “But losing this? You? That’s the only thing that actually keeps me up at night.”
Her breath hitches.
I could tell her I love her right now.
The words are right there on the tip of my tongue. Burning.
But I see the panic flash across her face just from hearing me talk about feelings, and I won’t push her. Not yet. Not like this.
So instead, I kiss her forehead and pull her closer.
“You chose me,” I murmur against her hair. “You walked down that hallway tonight, past your room, and came to mine. You chose me. And I’ve never been so fucking happy in my life.”
She exhales shakily, like maybe part of her has been waiting to hear that. Like maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to believe she can stay.
I don’t say anything else.
I just hold her.
Like I’m never letting go.
Because I’m not.