Chapter Twenty-Three
More And More
Maverick
She doesn’t stop me this time. Her body is soft and trembling beneath mine, her mouth hot and desperate against my lips, and for the first time in years, Zora doesn’t pull away.
She pulls me closer.
Every wall I felt slamming down between us crumbles the moment she whispers my name, not angry, not afraid, but aching. I lift her and carry her to the bedroom I haven’t set foot in for many years, and lay her down like she is something precious. Because she is. Because she always has been.
Our clothes came off in fumbling rushes, her fingers tugging at my shirt, my own hands dragging her blouse over her head. She is breathless and flushed, her skin glowing in the low light, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
I kiss every inch I can reach—her throat, her shoulders, the swell of her breasts. Her nails rake down my back, pulling me closer, urging me harder, until there is nothing left between us but need.
My hands cradle her breasts as I suck first one then the other pebbled nipple into my mouth, drawing soft moans of pleasure from deep within her. The crown of my cock slips through her wetness, nudging her entrance but keeping us both on edge.
“Please,” she begs, head thrown back in pleasure.
I don’t deny her, sinking into her slowly, inch by inch until I am fully seated. My gaze travels down her body glancing at the place where we are connected, and I nearly lose control.
We both gasp, the sound raw and broken. It has always been fire with us, but this is different. This is coming home.
“Zora,” I groan, burying my face in her neck as she clings to me. “I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere this time. Not ever again.”
Her body tightens around me, her voice shaking. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, my chest heaving. “I’m not that man anymore. And I’ll spend every damn day proving it to you. To her. To both of you.”
Her lips tremble, but when I kiss her again, she lets me.
And then there are no more words, only the sounds of us breaking and mending at the same time, our bodies finding a rhythm that feels like forgiveness and forever all at once.
I thrust into her in measured strokes, watching her face as she gets lost in the pleasure.
Her walls clench around me and I know she is getting close.
My thumb finds her clit and rubs in tight little circles, sending her over the edge.
Her orgasm steals her breath and drags me along with her.
I cum inside her without a second thought knowing I’m not going anywhere this time.
I flip onto my back, dragging her with me. We lie tangled in the sheets, her head on my chest, my hand stroking slow circles on her back. This time, it isn’t silence between us. It is peace.
For the first time in years, I feel the weight in my chest easing, the storm quieting.
“Do you regret it?” I ask, my voice low, afraid of the answer.
She lifts her head, eyes soft but steady. “No.”
Relief tears through me so sharp it almost hurts. I kiss her forehead, her temple, her lips. “Then I’ll hold onto that. And tomorrow, and the day after, and every one after that, I’ll give you more reasons not to regret me.”
She swallows hard, her hand sliding into mine, our fingers lacing.
****
Two days later, we go to the farmer’s market in town with Ivy. It was Zora’s idea, neutral ground, safe, casual. Ivy darts between stalls with Bun-Bun under her arm, demanding samples of peaches and cookies.
I walk beside Zora, and without thinking, I reach for her hand. She stiffens for half a second before she lets me hold it. And when Ivy spins around and sees us, her eyes go wide.
“Are you holding hands?” she squeals, pointing like she’d just caught us in some scandal.
Zora flushes, but before she could pull away, I lean down, brush a soft kiss across her lips, and answer, “Yeah, Trouble. We are.”
Ivy’s grin nearly splits her face. “Does that mean you’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Zora sputters, cheeks burning, but I just laugh, ruffling Ivy’s curls. “It means I love your mommy. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Ivy shrieks with delight, skipping ahead like the world has just given her candy. Zora looks at me, torn between panic and something else. Something soft. Something like hope.
“You can’t just...” she starts.
“Yes, I can,” I cut in gently, squeezing her hand. “I’m not hiding how I feel about you anymore. And I don’t want Ivy thinking she has to hide how happy she makes me either.”
Her eyes shimmer, her lips parting, but she doesn’t argue.
She just walked with me, our hands linked, while our daughter skipped ahead, singing to Bun-Bun. And for the first time, it felt real.
Like a future.
Like a family.