Chapter 10 #3
The bed welcomed them with its familiar embrace, the mattress dipping beneath their combined weight. Carter hovered above her, his body a solid, warm presence that she had craved for so long.
The weight of him was intoxicating, grounding her in the moment, in him.
She pulled him closer, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, scoring thin, deliberate lines along his shoulder blades.
He groaned into the crook of her neck, the vibration of the sound sending a shiver down her spine.
His hands roamed her body with a reverence that made her heart ache. One hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the lace of her bra, teasing it into a hardened peak.
She gasped, her back arching off the bed, her body begging for more. His mouth followed, hot and wet, as he pulled the lace aside and took her nipple between his lips, sucking gently before nipping with his teeth. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her.
“Carter,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Please.”
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “Tonight is all about you,” he said, his voice rough. “I need to make this right. Let me.”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
She understood—this was his apology, his way of showing her how much he had missed her, how much he needed her.
His hands slid down her body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and dragging them down her legs.
He tossed them aside, his gaze never leaving hers as he settled between her thighs.
His breath was hot against her skin as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, then higher, his lips trailing a path of fire along her inner thigh.
She whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed, silently begging for more.
He chuckled, the sound low and dark, before his mouth finally found her center.
His tongue was relentless, circling her clit with a precision that made her vision blur. She gasped, her fingers twisting in the sheets as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
“Oh God, Carter—” she choked out, her voice breaking. He didn’t let up, his tongue flicking and teasing, his fingers joining in, sliding inside her with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her writhing beneath him.
She came with a cry, her body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. But he didn’t stop. He kept going, his mouth and fingers working her through the aftershocks, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling, her body slick with sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Carter, please,” she begged, her voice hoarse. “I need you inside me. Now.”
He lifted his head, his lips glistening, his eyes burning with need. “Are you sure?”
She reached for him, her hands sliding down his chest, her fingers wrapping around his cock. He was hard, hot, throbbing in her grip. “I need you,” she whispered. “All of you.”
He groaned, shifting above her, his hips settling between her thighs. She guided him to her entrance, her breath hitching as the head of his cock pressed against her.
He slid inside slowly, inch by inch, filling her with a delicious stretch that made her gasp. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her nails digging into his back as he began to move.
Their bodies found a rhythm, a slow, deep dance that built with each thrust. She met him stroke for stroke, her hips rising to meet his, her breath mingling with his in the space between them.
His forehead pressed against hers, his eyes locked on hers, and she saw it—the raw, unfiltered emotion in his gaze, the love, the regret, the hope.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I never stopped.”
She kissed him, her lips crashing against his, her tongue tangling with his as their bodies moved together. The pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter, until she was teetering on the edge.
He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles that sent her spiraling over the edge. She came with a cry, her body clenching around him, her orgasm triggering his own.
He buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering as he spilled inside her, his release hot and deep.
They clung to each other, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath ragged in the quiet of the room.
For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world, like they had been reborn in each other’s arms.
Carter collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, his face buried in her hair. She curled into him, her body still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice a rough whisper. “I’m never letting you go again.”
She smiled, her heart full, her body sated. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I’m never letting you go either.”
Carter lay beside her with one arm flung above his head, his breathing gradually slowing. Savannah turned onto her side and rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady under her ear, a rhythm she had fallen asleep to a thousand times and had not expected to find comforting again.
His hand found her spine. One palm, warm and broad, moving slowly up the curve of her back and down again, tracing each vertebra with the absent tenderness of a man touching something precious while his mind drifted toward sleep.
The motion was hypnotic. Savannah closed her eyes and let her body settle against his, her leg hooked over his thigh, her arm across his stomach, and the weight of his hand on her back was the only conversation either of them needed.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. The apartment was dark.
The dead plant stood sentinel on the windowsill, its brown fronds catching what little light reached it from the streetlamp outside.
The suitcase remained by the front door, unpacked but present, its handle extended toward a hallway that no longer felt like a border between two versions of the same life.
Savannah’s fingers found Carter’s wrist. She traced the pulse point with her thumb, feeling the steady drum of his heart beneath the skin, and she did not say I forgive you.
She did not say It’s okay. She said nothing at all, because the words were still forming somewhere beneath the surface, taking their time, finding their shape in the quiet of a room where two people had finally stopped performing and started choosing.
Carter’s hand stilled on her back. His breathing had deepened, the even rhythm of a man sliding toward sleep, and his arm tightened around her waist—not clutching, not possessive, just present.
The weight of him was anchor and compass both, and Savannah closed her eyes and let herself be held by the man who had, against considerable odds, found his way back to her.
Tomorrow the plant would need dealing with. The suitcase would need unpacking. The hard conversations would continue—about boundaries, about trust, about the work of rebuilding something that had been damaged not by a single catastrophe but by a thousand small neglects.
None of that mattered tonight. Tonight there was only this: his chest under her cheek, his hand on her spine, the quiet certainty of two people who had chosen each other in a room where every other option had been, finally, set aside.
She would try again. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to. The difference was everything.