29. Alexander #2
“Then I get everything I spent three years pretending I didn’t still want.” She wiped at her face. “That’s the cruelest part, Alex. You became the man I begged for. You just did it after I stopped being the woman who got to keep him.”
“Then hate me tomorrow.” I dropped my bag. “Choose me tonight.”
She crossed the room and kissed me first.
The kiss skipped gentle entirely and went straight to desperate, three years of grief and longing crashing through whatever restraint we’d both been clinging to.
Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I backed her against the wall without breaking the kiss.
Her mouth opened under mine, and I tasted salt from her tears mixed with the warmth of her.
“Tell me to stop,” I said against her lips.
“Don’t you dare.”
I kissed down her neck, finding the pulse point that had always made her gasp. She didn’t disappoint me, her breath catching, her hands sliding up into my hair.
“I missed you,” I said into her skin. “Every day. Every night. I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo and the way you fit against me.”
“Show me.”
I picked her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her to the bed. We fell together, her beneath me, her eyes dark with want and fear and a vulnerability that undid me.
“We can stop,” I said. “Anytime. Just say the word.”
“I don’t want to stop.” She pulled at my shirt, tugging it free from my pants. “I want to feel like myself again. I want to remember what it was like when we were good.”
I let her undress me. Watched her hands shake slightly as she worked the buttons, as she pushed fabric off my shoulders and ran her palms across my chest. I’d lost weight in the years since she’d last touched me this way, and I saw her register the change, her fingers tracing the new angles of my body.
“You’re thinner,” she said.
“I forgot how to eat properly for a while.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of losing you.” I caught her hand, pressed my lips to her palm. “But I’m okay now. Better than okay, with you here.”
I undressed her slowly, savoring every reveal. The curve of her shoulder. The dip of her waist. The softness of her belly that she’d always been self-conscious about and I’d always loved. She was different too, stronger somehow, like the years of independence had carved new strength into her body.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her.
“You’re biased.”
“Absolutely. Still true.”
I kissed down her sternum, taking my time, letting her feel the reverence in every touch. She arched into me when I reached her breasts, her hands tangling in my hair.
“More,” she said.
“Patience.”
“I’ve been patient for three years.”
“Then a few more minutes won’t kill you.”
I worked my way lower, my mouth learning her again, rediscovering the places that made her shiver.
I dragged my tongue along the crease of her hip, felt her stomach jump, kept going until I settled between her thighs and found her already soaked.
The knowledge that she wanted this, wanted me, this wet and this ready after everything I’d done to lose her, nearly finished me on the spot.
I licked into her slow, tasting her, and her whole body bowed off the bed.
I held her hips down with one forearm and worked her open with my mouth, my tongue circling her clit, two fingers pushing into her until I found the spot that made her forget language.
She was swearing, one hand fisted in my hair hard enough to sting, and I could have stayed there until morning just to feel her fall apart against my mouth.
“Look at you,” I murmured against her hip. “So ready for me.”
“Alex, please.”
“Please what? Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to touch me. I want you to stop teasing and actually…” Her voice broke off into a moan as I gave her what she was asking for.
I’d missed this. Missed the sounds she made, the way her hips moved against my hand, the way she said my name like it was the only word she remembered. I built her up slowly, deliberately, holding her at the edge until she was begging.
“That’s it,” I said. “So good for me. Just let go.”
She did. I watched her fall apart, her back arching off the bed, her hands twisting in the sheets and my name breaking on a moan she couldn’t hold in. I worked her through it, gentle now, letting her ride out every last pulse.
When she could focus again, she pulled me up to kiss her. I could feel her trembling against me, feel the heat of her body pressed along mine.
“I need you inside me,” she said. “Now.”
“Are you sure?”
“If you ask me that one more time, I’m going to hurt you.”
I laughed despite myself. “There’s the woman I married.”
“Shut up and fuck me, Alexander.”