Chapter 59 Annalise #2
I yank the dress off and toss it aside, pressing myself to him until my breasts hover at his mouth.
He groans, cupping them in both hands before rolling a nipple with his tongue.
My body arches, bows, and I tip my head back, grinding into his lap, chasing friction.
A shudder racks through him as I hold his face to my chest, moaning his name like a wanton prayer.
His mouth stays latched as his hands trail lower, sliding under the band of my underwear. He lifts his hips, and I reach down, tugging at his sweatpants until his cock springs free.
Thick, flushed, already leaking.
My breath hitches.
I wrap my fingers around him and begin to stroke. Chase lets out a broken sound and falls back against the couch, head sloped, lips parted, chest rising fast. His hands grip my hips, the only thing tethering him to this earth.
I shimmy out of my underwear and climb back into his lap, his cock teasing the slick heat between my thighs. But before I can sink down, he lifts me, strong hands bracketing my ass, and hauls me up to his mouth.
His tongue slides between my legs.
My entire body shatters.
I cry out, clinging to him, bucking against his mouth as he devours me with that same bruising mix of hunger and worship. His hands pin me open, guiding my movements, coaxing out every fractured moan, every tremble, every gasp of his name like a song he already knows by heart.
I grind against his face, shameless and wild, until an orgasm blindsides me, hitting hard, sudden and ferocious.
I’m still quivering when he lowers me back to his lap, his lips slick with me, eyes feral and glassy like he’s witnessed something holy.
“Come here,” he breathes, voice wrecked.
I reach for him, hands threading through his hair, pulling him into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, messy and consuming. His cock presses hot against me, nudging where I’m already aching, already soaked. I shift my hips, guiding him to my entrance, and we both freeze.
His hands tighten at my waist. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I murmur, touching my forehead to his.
He exhales, releasing a breath he’s been holding since the day he left.
And then he pushes inside.
I sink onto him, into him, the melancholy melting away.
We gasp in unison, our bodies going still as he stretches me open, careful and slow, his hands shaking where they hold me.
My nails dig into his shoulders as I cling, grounding myself in the heat, the fullness, the overwhelming relief of him being inside me again.
Of this not being a memory or a misstep, but a moment.
A picture-perfect piece.
His lips graze my temple, my cheek, my mouth as he bottoms out, and we stay there—connected, frozen—just breathing each other in.
Then we move together. A slow, desperate rhythm. No rush, no need to prove anything. Just the soft slap of skin, the quiet pants and moans, the sharp edges of grief worn smooth by love.
I ride him with everything I have. Every wound, every want, every shadow of the girl who waited for him to come home.
His hands guide my hips, his lips brush my throat, and when my body starts to shake again, he presses a hand to my chest, right over my heart.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I love you.”
When my climax peaks, I take him with me. His moan splinters against my mouth as he releases deep inside me, clutching so tightly, afraid the world will tear us apart for good.
But it doesn’t. Not yet.
It’s just us.
Shuddering. Spent. Entwined.
And for a second frozen in time, nothing’s broken. Nothing’s lost.
We’re exactly where we belong.
***
Late-afternoon sunlight spills across the bedspread as I lie beneath him, naked, writhing, glazed with sweat and bliss.
We’ve been insatiable. Minutes shifted into hours, and when we finally made it to the bedroom, we never left, the time lost to kisses, sex, cuddling, catnaps, and more sex.
I’ve savored every moment, begging for each one to span infinite measures and lifetimes.
I can’t lose him; I can’t think about losing him.
So I’ve lost myself instead. In his body, his words, his love.
It’s all I can do.
Collapsing backward on the bed, I exhale deeply, folding a heavy arm over my eyes. Chase army-crawls up the mattress, kissing my nose.
A drowsy smile blooms as I push damp hair off my forehead, the wispy blond strands stuck to my temples. “Mmm…I missed this.”
“I missed you,” he says, pressing another kiss to my lips. “So much.”
I twine my arms around his neck and pull him down until his cheek presses to the swell of my breasts.
We’re both hot, sticky, and exhausted. Raw emotion continues to battle inside me, shifting from laughter to terror to heart-wrenching sadness with every blink, every beat.
One minute I’m smiling so big my jaw aches.
Then I’m coming, screaming his name as pleasure surges through me.
Then I’m crying. Sobbing. Envisioning an ending without him in it.
But for now I’m content because he’s still here.
As fatigue steals me away and my eyelids grow heavy, I hear something at the front of the house. A door opening, then clapping shut. Toaster’s nails click against hardwood.
Footsteps.
Voices.
A symphony of voices.
I startle, jolting into a sitting position as Chase rolls off me and searches for his clothes. “Your parents?” I wonder, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, taking the blankets with me.
He shakes his head, ruffles his hair. “They aren’t due for another two weeks.”
Scrambling, I shoot off the mattress and dive into the closet, yanking a dress off a hanger and shoving my head and limbs through the holes. Then I race over to Chase’s dresser and toss him a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
The voices grow louder.
And then, “Yo, you have guests.”
Oh my God.
It’s Tag.
“No welcome confetti or live orchestra? No charcuterie board? So disappointing.”
Kenna.
My eyes pop. Using my fingers as a comb, I fix my hair then straighten my dress, doing an awkward dance-hop into fresh underwear. The moment Chase has his jeans hooked around his hips, I grab him by the hand and charge out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Tears. Immediate tears.
“Oh my God?” I cup a hand around my mouth, lost for words. “You actually came?”
My brother and my best friend stand beside the coffee table with smiles on their faces.
“Surprise,” Kenna says, her arms full of houseplants.
Before I can get another word in, the door bursts open again.
Rock and Zach saunter through the threshold, Rock carrying a small amp and Zach with his bass guitar slung over his shoulder.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m Kevin McAllister in Home Alone, watching his family arrive home on Christmas morning.
Except this is louder.
Messier. Realer.
Kenna starts crying, which of course sets me off again, and then she’s shoving a potted plant into my arms like it’s a newborn and she’s the proud aunt.
“I told you I’ll always be here. You can’t get rid of me,” she says, brushing a tear off my cheek and squeezing my wrist with her free hand. “I meant it.”
Tag steps forward next, pulling me into a hug so tight my ribs protest. “God, sis, you look like a person again,” he mutters into my hair. “Was worried you’d gone full swamp witch out here.”
“I was moments away from braiding bones into my hair,” I say into his shoulder, laughing through the tears, my lingering resentment falling by the wayside.
Rock and Zach stroll over like they never left our orbit, like it hasn’t been eight months since our band dismembered and we scattered across the country, licking our wounds in silence.
Zach sets his bass down by the window and gives me a quiet, knowing smile. Rock cracks a joke about how he half expected to find us building bunkers and stockpiling canned beans, convinced Chase had gone full-off-grid prophet.
Then my brother slowly walks up to Chase.
He says nothing. Just stares him down.
Chase stiffens, shoulders squared, sensing his presence.
Tag eyes him for another second, then drops his guitar with a thud and grabs him in a fierce hug. “I should punch you,” he says into Chase’s shoulder. “But I’d probably break my hand, and we’ve got shit to play.”
Chase exhales a breath, and it sounds like something inside him finally lets go. “Shit,” he says hoarsely. He pinches the bridge of his nose, tamping down the rush of emotion. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“That’s the point of surprises.” With a clap on the back, Tag pulls away and flops down on the couch.
“You vanish for eight months, Annalise sends me a text that nearly gave me a stroke, and next thing I know we’re in a rental van with a busted aux cord and Kenna screaming at Siri somewhere outside Scranton. ”
Kenna lifts a hand. “She told me to turn left into a lake, Tag.”
“Still better than when you rerouted us through an Amish parade.”
Zach mutters, “They waved, at least.”
“I stand by my route.” She sniffs, then pivots to face me. “The journey was low-key traumatic if I’m being honest, thanks to your insufferable brother narrating the entire trip like we were on a true crime podcast.”
Tag scoffs. “Sorry for trying to bring context to our emotional road trip. I think the listeners appreciated it.”
Zach nods solemnly. “Season one was stronger. The pacing dipped around Harrisburg.”
A sob-like laugh spills out of me as I swipe tears off my face. “Trauma’s very on-brand for us.”
Kenna sends me a wink, her expression soft.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, huh?” Rock cuts in, surveying the space. “I was this close to assuming you’d joined a doomsday cult, bro. Figured we’d find you with a beard down to your balls and a manifesto about government satellites in the well water.”
Chase chuckles, shaking his head, still looking blindsided.
Grinning, Rock points to the ceiling. “I swear I saw a drone circling the driveway. Probably the feds tracking your Spotify plays.”
“Could’ve been the bear,” Zach deadpans.
I gasp. “You saw the bear?”
“That thing looked like it pays property taxes.”
More laughter fills the room, cracked and wet and beautiful. It echoes through the walls of this little house like music. Like forgiveness. Like home.
Chase slips his hand into mine and squeezes.
When I look at him, I see the man I fell in love with. Still worn, still healing, but not alone.
Not anymore.
Because they’re here. We’re all here.
And whatever comes next—surgery, recovery, more tears—we won’t be facing it in silence.
We’ll face it together.
As friends.
As a band.
As a family.