Chapter 43
Rori
Landon’s clear-eyed expression after we stop kissing settles something inside me. All the anxiety that I couldn’t fix this, that I would mess up the apology, is fading rapidly now.
Just hope and happiness left behind.
Landon moves his hand over mine, which is resting on the table, like I had been bracing myself. The contact sends tingles up my arm.
“Let’s walk Grover before it gets too dark?” he asks. And as he stands up, grabbing the leash and Grover, I follow him.
It’s a beautiful night, steamy like August always is in Florida, but with no clouds and a kaleidoscope of beautiful pinks, oranges, and blues across the sky.
Grover moves at a steady pace but isn’t rushing. After a few steps, Landon takes my hand with his free one.
We walk in comfortable silence, his fingers squeezing mine from time to time.
It’s like the quiet walk is a moment of reset. Recovering our normal.
When we go back inside, Landon chuckles to himself.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“I was going to see if you wanted to watch a show,” he explains. “But then I realized I knew the answer already.”
“Ha,” I say. “We do have a lot of catching up to do on Camp Puppy Love. I also found a new dating show I need to introduce to you.”
“Well, let’s go then,” he says, chuckling again, and gesturing to his living room. We walk in and take our usual positions on his couch, with maybe an extra inch between us than normal.
As we watch the first episode though, nothing else feels different from all the other nights we’ve done this. After about ten minutes, his arm shifts over to my legs, and he rests his hand on one of them. Like a test.
A test it feels like we pass. We’re connected again, and the fact that it extends to the physical feels completely right.
Within another few minutes, I scoot slightly closer to him, closing all the space between us, and lean my body on his, my head on his shoulder.
This is the best I’ve felt in weeks.
It’s where you’re meant to be, a voice in my head says.
After the episode ends, Landon turns his head down, kissing the top of my head.
“You want to keep watching TV?” he asks.
I sit up slightly so I can make eye contact with him.
God, he’s looking so hot now that I can really admire him without being worried about all our other issues. The masculine, strong lines of his bone structure, his glowing hazel eyes, the curls that I want to run my hands through. I finally can stare again at this beautiful man.
Then I see his eyes dip to my lips before they jump back to my eyes. I smile.
“Not really,” I say. “How about you?”
“Not really,” he repeats. “How about this instead?”
He tilts his head so our lips meet. Unlike our previous kisses over the last twenty-four hours, this one gets hot and heavy quickly. I turn my body and move over him, straddling him on the couch, while his hands land on my hips as I settle.
“Fuck, this feels good to do again,” he says as he squeezes my hips, his long, thick fingers reaching the curves of my ass.
Our mouths crash together over and over, and each time our tongues connect, I feel heat rise in my body. If our kiss earlier was a promise to each other, this one is an explosion of need.
I can’t help it. I start to press my core into him, rolling on top of his lap.
Even with his clothes on, I can feel him harden swiftly, which intensifies the sensations as I rock against him. Without stopping our kiss, he encourages my movements, using his hands to increase the push of my hips against him.
“Oh my god,” I say through our kiss.
The pressure builds in my core, spreading back up to my breasts as I feel my nipples ache. All of a sudden, I don’t want all these clothes on.
I move my head slightly back and look up at him, his eyes dilated, pupils blown wide.
“Okay if I get naked?” I ask, too turned on to think of something more clever.
“Yes, both of us,” he says, similarly too distracted to be articulate, it seems.
We strip off our shirts while I stay on top of him. I then unfasten my bra, ready to get it off. As I fling it to some unknown part of his living room, Landon unabashedly looks at my breasts.
“Oh, these beauties,” he says, his hands coming up to cup them before lightly rubbing each nipple with his thumbs.
His touch sends an electric jolt through my body, and even though we are still both wearing our shorts, I can’t help but roll my hips against him again, desperate for friction.
Landon watches with a pleased smile at my reaction, thumbs still circling my nipples.
“Baby, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, clearly enjoying his effect on me.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” I gasp out, as I keep rocking.
“Do it then. It’ll be the first of many,” he says, before leaning down to take one of my nipples in his mouth.
As he sucks on me, using his tongue to add friction against my aching nipples, my body gives up the fight and I come as I press against his hardness.
“I fucking love watching you come,” he says as I absorb the waves of pleasure. His hands and mouth on my breasts, still driving me crazy.
After a minute, I’m coming down, and he’s grinning.
“We didn’t even get our shorts off yet,” I say as my breath levels out.
“Wanted to make sure you got taken care of right when you needed it,” he replies, grin still firmly on his face.
A wave of emotions hits me.
Thinking of all I could have missed out if I didn’t get over my baggage. Didn’t get those big girl panties on and admit my mistake, apologize. And if Landon hadn’t been willing to listen and to try again.
I give him a soft peck on the mouth. “Thank you for that,” I say, but I mean so much more than the orgasm.
The rest of the night is incredible. The shorts do come off quickly, and soon I’m riding him on the couch until we both find our pleasure. Then we move to the bedroom with the promise of another round.
Beyond the sex resuming our previous marathon-level status, our connection, our emotional tethering, our friendship—all seem to have snapped solidly back into place.
As we take breaks, whispers of stories, jokes, and more serious topics sneak in, like they always do.
Because Landon gets me like no other, and vice versa. A perfect match.
When we move into the bedroom, he guides me back onto the bed, gently resting my head on one of his pillows.
“My girl,” he says before leaning down to kiss me.
Everything is soft and sweet this time. As he kisses down the side of my neck to the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulders, his hands lightly glide down from my shoulders to my breasts to the outside of my upper thighs, where they settle.
Pulling my legs to wrap around his own hips, he shifts closer so he can push his now fully-hard dick against my core. When his mouth has to come off my neck so he can lock our lower bodies together, I whine a little, making him chuckle.
“You liked that, huh, beautiful?”
He kisses me again softly on the mouth and then sits up to press his dick against me again. This time hitting my clit directly, while his hands hold my legs in place around him.
He repeats the motion three more times, pushing against my clit. It feels so good, and I’m already so wet between our earlier times today and him coming in me on the couch.
“I’m ready,” I say.
He grunts in acknowledgment, and I see how black his eyes have become again.
A moment later, he positions his dick and starts pushing inside me. We both moan as he fills me up, the stretch lighting my body on fire further.
As he pushes all the way in, his eyes lock on mine.
“Nothing feels better than being inside you,” he says gruffly. Unable to speak, I hum back and then tighten my legs slightly against him, drawing him closer as he starts to move his hips.
And he does, first slow and deep, then faster and even deeper. I’m lost to the sensations, almost drunk on the pleasure streaking through my body. As his motions get more desperate, my climax comes first, and then he lets himself go too.
He stays inside me for a minute after he’s done, leaning down to softly kiss my neck again. Then he sits up, pulling out of me but staying kneeling between my legs.
Soon I realize why. I’m dripping from him, and his eyes are lit up at the vision. After taking his fill of the view, he touches me, swirling his own come around and pushing it back inside my softness.
“Mine,” he says with absolute confidence in his tone. He then leans down and kisses me right where his thumb just left.
“Mine,” he repeats. With another look at me, he moves off the bed and disappears for a moment.
“Grabbing a towel from the bathroom so I can clean you up,” he says from around the corner.
He comes back and takes care of me.
As Landon always takes care of me.
When we wake up the next morning, Landon’s arms are firmly around me. He holds me like he wants to keep me with him for good. I enjoy his embrace for a beat, his light snoring somehow soothing.
I’ve never felt peace with a man like I do right now. If anything, twelve months ago, this whole thing would have terrified me.
As I lie here and absorb all that’s happened with Landon and me, and where we’re headed now, I’m not scared at all.
I’m ready for it. Ready for anything he needs, and to drown out all outside noise to make this work.
Not willing to sacrifice Landon, us, any more than I’m willing to compromise my tennis.
And no one is forcing me to choose between them. I simply needed to get out of my own way.
Now I choose them both.