Chapter 32
Luna
Kel leaves with a nod, and the front door closes behind him with a soft click.
Suddenly, the house feels warmer. The silence seems to be waiting for … something.
I turn a slow half-circle and find Isaac is already looking at me. The laughter from before has faded, leaving a racing pulse and anticipation. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, the black swallowing the blue.
Not impatient, but focused entirely on me. It’s a surprise that my clothes have not fallen off. For a second, neither of us says anything, enjoying the buildup. It has been such a long time.
Then he takes a step forward. And another. Until the distance between us disappears. He bends and brushes a featherlight kiss across my lips, just barely there. Enough to take my breath away.
When he pulls back, it’s only an inch. He is close enough that I can feel the puff of his minty breath against my skin.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth and then back to my eyes.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, sending a ridiculous flutter through my stomach.
Before I can answer, he turns me gently around.
One hand, then the other settles at my waist, possessive in the gentlest possible way. I have never been more aware of him behind me than as we walk up the stairs.
His hands never leave my waist. We both automatically turn to Amelie’s room. It is done up in buttery yellows with jungle animals and trees on the walls. The nightlight projects a slow-moving galaxy across the ceiling.
The nursery door is slightly ajar, as it always is.
Pale light spills across the cot. Amelie is fast asleep on her back.
We have stopped swaddling her as she looks ready to roll.
One tiny fist is curled beside her face.
Her little mouth makes soft sucking motions in her sleep.
And then a smile flickers before she goes back to dreaming about eating.
I find myself smiling back.
“I wonder what she’s dreaming about,” I whisper as I adjust her bedding. The room is warm because we are worried she might choke on her blanket. Isaac steps closer behind me. Warm arms slide around my waist. His chin settles lightly on top of my head.
“Probably world domination plans,” he mutters.
I laugh softly.
“She’s definitely taken over ours.”
“That’s true.”
His lips brush my neck. A kiss, and then another.
“You made a promise when you took those panties off, Mrs Marlowe,” he teases.
For a moment, we simply stand here together, looking at our daughter. The tiny person who somehow became the centre of everything. Isaac glances towards the baby monitor. Double checks that it’s working because he’s Isaac. Then, he finally seems satisfied.
His hands tighten briefly around my waist.
“Okay,” he murmurs against my ear.
I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Daddy’s shift is officially over. For a few hours, unless a siren goes off, demanding food.”
I laugh quietly.
“Oh?”
“Mm.”
Another kiss against my neck.
“And now it’s time for Daddy to tuck Mummy in.”
The ridiculousness of that statement makes me roll my eyes.
He gives the monitor one last suspicious glance, then takes my hand and pulls me to our bedroom next door.
“Going to close this for a bit,” he says, shutting the door. “Who knows. She may be a young Sheldon.”
He unzips me, grumbling about how tiny these torture devices are under his breath.
Slowly, giving me lots of time to change my mind, he slips one sleeve off, then the other.
Then he unclips my bra, and it comes off as well.
His hands come around me from behind, cupping my breasts while lips trace the red band left by the bra.
He bites down gently on the column of my breast and then licks it, like he is soothing the burn away.
He steps away to pull his clothes off, giving me a show.
I can’t look away as he reveals the slabs of muscle of his chest and abdomen.
Then, in one movement, he pulls down his pants and underwear, letting me see how much he wanted me.
I watch his buttocks move as he strides into the en suite and turns the shower on.
Then he pulls me into the en suite, muttering, “I have set it to boiling, just the way you like it,” making me giggle.
The warmth of the shower seeps into my chilled skin.
Before I can even register what he’s doing, Isaac backs me against the wall and drops to his knees in the shower, startling a sharp intake of breath from me as he drags my left leg up over his shoulder, urging me to hook it against his back.
A whimper escapes, sounding loud even with the shower on, and I freeze for a moment, feeling a little bit shy and maybe a little self-conscious.
“What—”
He presses his mouth into the soft flesh of my belly, kissing down my stomach, his hands on me to keep my thighs apart and my leg over his shoulder.
I want to beg him not to, and I want to pull him closer.
My hands flutter over him, not touching for a moment before I brace myself against the wall.
Isaac glances up, watching my every response, and he grabs my right hand and guides it to his dark hair.
He holds my wrist, still kissing between my hip bones until finally, cautiously, I curl my fingers in his mass of wet strands.
That earns me a moan and a nip against the sensitive skin close to the junction of my thighs, and that has me shuddering.
His hand drops back down to my thigh, digging in hard enough to leave more marks.
He pauses, as if gauging my responses, while his fingers stroke up my inner thigh, running along the almost-too-sensitive skin there.
Lazily, he finds my eyes with his gaze, watching me as his fingers wander over the silver stretch marks on my abdomen, kissing them reverently until they’re finally stroking directly over my slit, teasingly sliding between my folds just enough to make me shudder.
“Isaac … please,” I beg, unable to hold it back.
He tilts his head, still stroking along my slit, but all I can do is shake my head, teeth sinking into my bruised lower lip as I resign myself to his prolonged torture.
Then, as if a switch has been flipped, he leans forward, breath hot against my centre as he presses open-mouthed kisses between my thighs.
His lips are soft when they trace my body, and two of his fingers move to spread my slit wide for him, giving him better access as my hand curls in his wet hair.
The moment his tongue flicks against my clit, my hips buck forward, and I find myself letting out the breath I have been holding in a huff.
I feel his chuckle vibrate through me, making me jump at the sensation.
His hands disappear, holding my hips in place.
All I can focus on is his tongue licking a long, hot swipe up my slit and nearly making me scream.
Groans spill free as I feel his tongue slip between my folds to tease and toy with my clit.
He doesn’t give me any warning as his teeth scrape against it, applying just the right amount of pressure before licking soothingly over me.
Pleasure courses through my veins, making me see stars.
A brush of his fingers against my entrance is the only warning I get before he slides two long fingers into me, barely giving me a chance to adjust to the intrusion before he’s curling them forward and rocking them in and out of my body.
His mouth doesn’t stop, teeth feeling sharp and edgy with every scrape against me.
A soft sob escapes me, and I find myself unable to stop myself from looking down at him, eyes wide and begging.
Isaac pauses, a smile tugging at his wet lips.
With my eyes boring into his, he leans in once more, but instead of licking or nipping, he unerringly finds my swollen clit once more with his tongue and teeth, seals his lips around it, and sucks hard.
My breaths are coming faster, and my chest is heaving until, at last, Isaac suddenly gets to his feet, hands coming up to cup my face as he crushes his mouth to mine and forces his tongue between my lips.
His fingers slide against my folds again, and he ignores my whimper of protest to shove all three back into me while his thumb slides hard against my clit.
I come apart in a starburst that leaves my inner muscles clenching around his fingers for what seems like forever.
When I come to, he is holding me close in the shower.
His hardness bumps against my belly, and I watch as he tries to wrest back control.
My arms are around his neck, and I reach up to kiss him under the gentle spray.
That is all it takes for him to pull my hips roughly, lifting me up and spreading my legs to hook around his hips.
My head falls to the side as I lean in, feeling his frantic movements as he tries to manoeuvre me into position.
He stops moving when I pull his mouth roughly against mine.
His lips feel perfect as I bite his lower lip, bruising it, just like he bruised mine.
“You better finish what you started,” I mutter lazily in his ear.
His hands are big and rough on my hips, digging in almost to the point of pain.
But I want to remember this feeling of him skating on the verge of control.
I slip one hand between us to help him and curl it around his hard length.
I give his cock a hard squeeze, feeling him pulse against my palm.
The way he hisses “My Luna” against my neck only drives me higher.
Before I can utter another word, I feel his broad end notch just inside my entrance, and then he is surging inside in a rush, thrusting deep inside me.
He hisses through clenched teeth, his hips slapping against my thighs, driving himself deep inside.
I feel his lips press against mine, and his tongue demands entry.
“Look at me,” he growls. Isaac blinks once slowly, long, spiky lashes clumped together, framing his startling blue eyes, and then he says, “Luna … feels like heaven.” I feel him drive himself deeper and deeper inside me with every thrust. He leans forward, sucks my earlobe between his lips, and then sinks his teeth in. “Give me one more.” He groans.
“I can’t,” I cry as he speeds up. He reaches between us, moving his fingertips across my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm.
Warmth spreads down my spine, around my hips, and between my legs, jerking me back into him.
My entire body quakes from the orgasm that is rushing over me, leaving me gasping for air.
I am barely aware as he joins me, crying out his pleasure as he comes and leans heavily on me, holding me close.
I am barely awake as I feel him withdraw.
I start to slide, prompting him to hold me up.
I smell soap, and I am aware of nimble fingers lathering it into my hair.
He gently cleans me up and then wraps me in towels and carries me out.
I feel him tuck me under the covers. I am almost half-asleep as I feel his warm, bare body slide next to mine, pulling me close.
“I love you, Luna,” he whispers.
“Love you too,” I mumble as sleep takes me.
***
Something wakes me up. For a moment, I lie here before I turn, only to find an empty space on Isaac’s side of the bed.
A creak of a chair and a soft murmur have me pulling on one of his T-shirts. The hem brushes my thighs as I walk barefoot across the landing.
I blink at the hallway clock—just after five. A smile tugs at my mouth, knowing what I will find. One of the best things in my world.
The nursery door is cracked open. Warm amber light spills into the hallway. I nudge it wider and stop to stare.
Isaac is sitting bare-chested in the fluffy armchair.
His hair is sticking up in every direction, and Amelie is bundled in his arms, sucking on a bottle.
She’s half-asleep, eyes closed as she lazily feeds, one tiny hand resting against his chest. The sight hits me so hard that I have to lean against the doorframe for a second and blink the tears from my eyes.
Neither of them notices me immediately. Isaac is completely absorbed, watching her like she’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
I walk as quietly as I can and perch on the arm of the chair. The movement finally draws his attention.
His eyes lift to mine, and something happens to his face. His mouth wobbles ever so slightly, the way it does when he’s feeling too much and doesn’t quite know where to put it. I reach out and smooth a hand through his hair. Neither of us says anything.
He looks back down at Amelie. She’s asleep now, milk drunk.
I clock the softness in his expression, the wonder and absolute devotion in his eyes. A tear slips down his cheek before he notices it. It lands silently on the little blanket tucked around Amelie.
My heart feels like it is too full.
Isaac lets out a shaky breath.
“I feel so lucky.”
His voice is like gravel. I know exactly what he means. I know he is not just thinking about today.
He is thinking about hospital rooms and therapy appointments. About finding me bleeding on the bathroom floor. About the weeks when I wouldn’t get out of bed, and he was floundering.
The fear in his eyes. The despair in mine.
All the ways things could have gone wrong.
All the versions of our lives that ended differently.
I rest my hand over his, where it cups Amelie’s tiny back.
“Me too,” I whisper.
His eyes close briefly, and we simply sit here together, the three of us wrapped in the soft cocoon of the nursery.
Neither of us needs to say the rest aloud.
Things could have gone so differently, but somehow, through all the hurt and all the mistakes and all the darkness, we found our way back to each other.