Six
ALISON
We crash through Daniel’s front door, our lips smashing together while our hands rip greedily at each other’s clothes.
My nails scrape across his abs as I push his shirt up, and he lets out a deep groan before reaching behind his head and pulling it off.
I don’t know why that move is so sexy, but my clit throbs, and I can feel how embarrassingly wet I am.
His shirt lands in a pile on the floor, and I allow my gaze to meander across the artwork that is his upper body.
His long hours working out—both on and off the clock—are evident in his thick muscles that bunch and flex as my fingers glide over them in admiration.
Desire licks across my skin until I feel hot with the need to make this man mine again in every way possible.
My heated gaze moves up his body until it connects with his gorgeous blue eyes that make my heart ache from all the love in them.
“I want you.” My words are barely a whisper, but they’re said with such fierce desire that there’s no way he could miss all the depth of emotion behind those three simple words.
He reaches out and slides his fingers through my hair, tugging slightly, just how I like. “I’m yours.”
He says it like it’s the most factual thing in the world—like saying the sky is blue—and I can’t stop myself from launching my body at him.
I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, locking my ankles together at the base of his spine.
His thick arms hold me tight against his body, while his hands grip my ass and squeeze.
His hard, thick cock rubs against where I want him most, and I let out a sigh, dropping my head back. I can’t stop myself from grinding my clit along his erection, and even through our clothes, it feels heavenly.
“Fuck, babe. I’m gonna need you to stop doing that if I’m going to last until I get inside you.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I murmur before kissing his mouth.
I don’t know what’s come over me. I’ve never needed him like this.
I’ve never had such an overwhelming ache that felt like it was crawling under my skin, and he’s the only one who can satisfy it.
My hips start thrusting faster, my breaths coming out in heavy pants. “Oh God, I’m going to come.”
He groans like he’s being tortured, but holds his body still while his hands hold me against him so I can rock mindlessly against his erection until a shattered sob rips from my throat as my orgasm crests over me.
I shake in his arms as the aftershocks slowly fade and then open my eyes.
My head is only slightly clearer than it was a moment ago, but that need to feel him, to be completely connected with him, is still there, pulsing and needy.
His gaze is filled with lust and so much love I can’t do anything but kiss him and pour all the love inside of me into it.
His arms move up to band around my waist, instead of holding my ass, while I keep my legs locked around his hips, even though they’re still shaking slightly from my orgasm.
“I fucking love you, Ali,” he says, his voice hoarse and nearly broken.
“I love you too. I’m so sorry for everything I put you through the last five months.”
He shakes his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I do,” I say, desperate for him to understand how remorseful I feel. “I hurt you and that kills me. I never want to hurt you again.”
He kisses my lips—just a quick peck—before doing the same to both cheeks and then my nose. Each kiss seems to soothe my desperation until the tension starts to seep from my body.
“Make love to me,” I whisper. “I need you.” I’m always going to need him. He’s the other half of my soul; that much was made clear during our time apart.
“You’ve got me. Forever,” he says before leaning down and taking my mouth in a kiss that eases the final threads of desperation I was just feeling.
He carries me to my bedroom, and within moments, we’ve stripped off the rest of our clothes and are back in each other’s arms.
His lips trail down my body in languorous movements, not missing an inch, until I’m a bundle of nerves waiting to explode.
My clit throbs painfully between my legs, but no matter how much I whimper and beg, he doesn’t relieve the ache he’s building.
If this is his way of torturing me for what I put him through, I accept it completely.
He blows gently on my mound, just above my clit, but I feel the faintest hint of it as if he was touching me. Goose bumps pebble my skin, and every nerve ending comes to life.
“Please,” I nearly sob. It’s too much. It all feels like too much.
“Please what?” he murmurs, back to kissing and licking me everywhere but where I want him most.
“Make me come.” I’m well past having a delicate response or trying to play coy.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I cry as my body shakes from sitting so close to the precipice with no end in sight.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he says darkly.
I glance down and see him watching my face intently.
The second our gazes connect, he drops his mouth to my clit and sucks at the same time that he slides three fingers inside my soaking wet heat.
It only takes two thrusts of his thick fingers and his talented tongue before my body explodes like a supernova.
It feels like a rebirth, like everything is shiny and new and glittering.
I spend the next several hours making him feel the same way until we’re both spent and exhausted. I fall asleep with his arms wrapped around me and his chest against my back, feeling more peace than I’ve felt in a long time.
The past few weeks have been bliss. No one ever told me make-up sex was so delicious—or that we’d be so insatiable for each other. We had a healthy sex life before our breakup, but it was nothing like now.
It’s not just the sex that feels transformed.
Our conversations are deeper, our time together more focused on each other.
I’ll be the first to admit, I wasn’t always present when we were hanging on the couch watching TV after a long day.
I’d usually scroll social media on my phone or check my emails and he’d do the same, but now we soak in every moment together.
We talk about everything and nothing, deep topics, light topics, things we agree on and things we don’t, and everything in between.
Our relationship now is fuller, and more fulfilling in every way—which is saying something because I never had any complaints before.
It feels as if our time apart made us both realize how important the other person really was to us, and we want to honor and respect that time instead of getting complacent like we were.
I’ve even managed to keep most of my anxiety about his job in check.
It helps he’s had fairly mundane shifts—at least based on what he’s told me.
There’s a moment every time he leaves for work that my heart beats faster and I cling to him a little tighter as the thought that this could be the last time I see him flits through my mind.
But just as fast as it comes, it’s gone.
Tonight, though, anxiety swirls in my stomach unbidden. Work has been fine. Danny doesn’t work again until tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.
And yet, the anxiety is there.
I cuddle closer to Daniel as the movie plays on the screen in front of us. I refuse to let my irrational fears ruin a perfectly good night at home.
A buzz comes from Danny’s pants, and he digs in his pocket to pull out his phone. As soon as he glances at the display, his body stiffens.
“It’s the station. I gotta take this. Be right back,” he says, standing and heading for my kitchen.
I can hear the muffled conversation, but only enough to pick up bits and pieces of his side, but the surprise call from the station only causes the knot in my stomach to tighten.
Rationally, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous and everything is fine, but when he comes back into the living room with a frown on his face, I know something’s wrong and this is what’s had me anxious all night—whatever this is.
“I need to get to the station. There’s an emergency.”
“Okay.” I hesitate, afraid to ask because I’m not sure if it’ll make my worry worse. “Is everything okay?”
He stiffens so briefly that I’d question if it even happened if I hadn’t been watching him so closely.
When he doesn’t answer right away, that knot grows until the only thing I feel is dread.