Chapter Eleven #2
They sank into the bed together, the velvet blanket soft beneath them. Jay’s hand traced the curve of her thigh before slipping between them, and when he found the spot that made her tremble, she threw her head back with a sound that went straight through him.
Her breathing became ragged and needy. She tightened around his hand, and he pressed deeper, slower, wanting to hear every sound she’d give him and prove he remembered.
But it became too much. He had to stop or he wouldn’t make it.
Breathless, he reached for the nightstand. His hands shook as he tore open the foil packet. Ava steadied him with a touch, her eyes dark with want.
“Still sure?” he whispered. He needed to hear it again. He needed to know this was real and not some fever dream he’d wake up from alone.
“Yes.” She was already pulling him closer. “Jay, yes.”
He kissed down to her chest, but her fingers guided him back to her mouth.
When he finally pressed into her, they both went completely still. The sensation of being together again after so long was too much, not enough, everything.
“Jay…”
“I know.” His forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling. “Fuck, A. I know.”
They started slow, relearning the rhythm they’d perfected years ago. He moved carefully at first, watching her face, reading every expression: the way her lips parted, the flutter of her eyelashes.
The fear crept in even as pleasure built. What if she regretted this? What if he fucked it up again?
“Stay with me.” Ava’s voice cut through the spiral. She gripped his forearms. “Don’t go anywhere. Be here.”
“I am.” But his voice wavered.
Her breathing shifted, and he forced himself to focus on the way she responded to every movement, every touch. He still knew her body, knew exactly what she needed, and that knowledge felt like a gift.
He wanted to slow down, but she was louder than he remembered. Every moan and gasp of his name unraveled him, and when her nails raked down his back, he groaned into her neck. He could feel her getting close in the tremor of her thighs, the hitch in her breath, and the way she tightened around him.
His hand slipped between them, and her head fell back against the pillow with a broken sound. He kept his rhythm steady even as his own control started to fray. When she finally broke, his name came out in gasps—Jay, Jay, Jay—until he had to stop moving entirely or go over the edge with her.
He held still, breathing hard, pressing kisses to her neck, her jaw, her shoulder as she came down. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, her legs wrapped around him, holding him close.
“Give me a sec—” She laughed breathlessly, the sound edged with disbelief. “God, I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” He was already moving again, slow and deliberate, pulling a whimper from her throat.
She shoved at his chest, and he rolled onto his back, mourning the loss of her warmth for exactly two seconds before she straddled him again and he hissed her name.
Ava moved languidly, hands tracing over him.
She followed the lines of ink winding up his forearms and traced the mandala on his throat with her fingertips.
Her mouth moved to his neck, finding the spot where his pulse hammered, and she sucked hard enough to leave a mark.
He cursed, and she hummed in satisfaction.
When she sat up and braced both hands on his chest, her pace changed. His grip tightened on her hips, guiding her, and he couldn’t look away—couldn’t stop watching her move above him, hair wild around her shoulders, eyes half-closed, lost in this.
“I didn’t think—” His voice broke. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to see you like this again.”
“Stop thinking.” She leaned down again to kiss him, her movements relentless. “Just let go.”
He tried to hold back, tried to make it last, but she knew exactly how to undo him—the angle, the pace, every deliberate movement designed to destroy his control. When she clenched around him, his vision blurred. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise, his body arching up off the bed.
The release crashed through him and he pulled her down hard against his chest, burying his face in her neck as he shuddered. She held him through it, stroking through his hair.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d actually—” Ava’s palm pressed flat against his chest, right over his heart, like she needed to feel it beating.
That night, swallowing those pills, he’d been so sure he was doing everyone a favor.
He tilted his head to meet her gaze. “I don’t deserve this, A.”
“You don’t have to deserve it.” She shook her head, leaning to kiss him softly. “You just have to stay.”
He pulled her closer, breathing her in and anchoring himself to the feel of her, the sound of her heart against his.
She nestled into him, her body fitting perfectly with his, her breath evening out as she relaxed.
He brushed his fingers through her hair, untangling the sun-kissed strands, his other hand resting over hers where it lay on his heart.
He wanted to hold onto this forever, but even in her arms, that unshakeable fear crept in.
Being here meant he could lose it all again.
Once had nearly destroyed him. He wouldn’t make it through a second time.