Chapter 5 Waverly #2
The confession makes my heart twist. This powerful, commanding man, worried about disappointing me. I cup his face in my hands and pull him down for a kiss that's soft and sweet and full of all the things I don't know how to say.
"You could never disappoint me," I tell him. "I've never done this at all. You're my first. My only. And I'm terrified and excited and so overwhelmed I can barely breathe. We'll figure it out together."
Something shifts in his expression. The vulnerability is still there, but it's wrapped in something fiercer now. Possessiveness. Determination. He reaches for the hem of his sweater and pulls it over his head, revealing a broad chest and stomach that makes my mouth go dry.
"Your first," he repeats, and the word seems to do something to him. "Your only."
"Yes."
"Then I'm going to make sure it's good." He kisses my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. "I'm going to make sure you remember this for the rest of your life."
He undresses me slowly, peeling away my shorts and underwear like he's unwrapping something precious. His mouth follows his hands, kissing and tasting every inch of skin he reveals. By the time I'm fully naked beneath him, I'm shaking with need.
"Perfect," he murmurs against my hip. "Absolutely perfect."
Then his mouth is on me, between my legs, and I stop being able to form coherent thoughts.
He licks into me like I'm communion wine, worshipful and thorough, his tongue finding every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
When he sucks my clit into his mouth, I come with a cry that echoes off the walls, my hands fisted in the sheets, my whole body trembling.
He doesn't stop. He works me through the aftershocks and then keeps going, building me up again even as I'm still coming down. By the time he finally pulls away, I've lost count of the times I've crested that peak.
"Please," I gasp. "Please, I need you. I need to feel you inside me."
He strips off the rest of his clothes, and I get my first look at all of him. He's beautiful, all hard lines and coiled strength, and when I see how much he wants me, evident and undeniable, something deep in my core clenches with anticipation.
He positions himself between my thighs, the head of him pressing against my entrance, and pauses to look at me with so much tenderness it makes my throat tight.
"If it hurts, tell me," he says. "If you want to stop, we stop. No questions asked."
"I don't want to stop. I want you. All of you. Please."
He pushes inside me slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust to the stretch. There's a moment of burning pressure that makes me gasp, and he freezes immediately.
"Don't stop," I breathe. "It's okay. Keep going."
He does, sinking deeper until he's fully seated inside me, and the fullness is overwhelming. We stay like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air.
"This is my communion," he whispers against my lips. "You are my consecration. My undoing."
He starts to move, slow and careful at first, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But there's no pain now, only a building pleasure that has me digging my nails into his back and wrapping my legs around his waist.
"Faster," I beg. "Please. I need more."
He gives me more. His control cracks open, and his thrusts become harder, deeper, angled in a way that has me crying out with every stroke. His mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans, and one hand slides between our bodies to work my clit in tight circles.
"Come for me," he growls against my mouth. "I want to feel you come around me."
The command pushes me over the edge. I shatter with his name on my lips, clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash through me. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep and groaning my name like a prayer.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in my rumpled sheets, catching our breath. He's traced patterns on my skin for so long that I've lost track of time. The morning light has shifted to midday, and neither of us seems inclined to move.
"I should feel guilty," I murmur against his chest. "I keep waiting for it. The guilt. The shame. But it doesn't come."
His arms tighten around me. "I've spent eight years feeling guilty for things that were never my fault.
For not saving my brother. For wanting to be happy.
For being human." He tips my chin up so I'm looking at his face.
"I'm tired of guilt. I'm tired of punishing myself for being alive.
And when I'm with you, I don't feel guilty. I just feel... real."
"What happens now?" I ask the question that's been lurking beneath the surface of my bliss. "You're still a priest. The church is still your life."
"Not anymore." His voice is certain in a way that makes my breath catch. "I've already started the paperwork. Laicization. It takes time, but I've made my choice. I'm choosing this. Choosing you."
"Cillian, no." I sit up, panic flooding through me. "You can't give up everything you've built. Not for me. What if you regret it? What if you wake up one day and realize you made a mistake?"
He sits up too, cupping my face in his hands.
"I've never believed in anything the way I believe in this.
In us. The church was never my calling, Waverly.
It was my hiding place. A way to avoid living because I was too afraid of losing again.
" He presses his lips to my forehead. "You made me brave enough to stop hiding. "
I don't have words. All I can do is pull him close and kiss him with everything I have, trying to show him all the things I don't know how to say.
When we finally break apart, he settles back against my pillows and pulls me into his arms. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"I've never felt like this before," I admit quietly. "Like I belong somewhere. Like someone actually sees me."
"I see you." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I've seen you since the moment you walked into my church. And I'm never going to stop looking."
I fall asleep in his arms, safer and more content than I've ever been in my life. When I wake up hours later, he's gone. But there's a note on my pillow in careful handwriting:
I have to handle something. Stay here. Please. — C
I press the note to my chest and smile. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.