24. Luisa
— ? —
Luisa
I woke up tangled.
The pillow wall had failed sometime in the night, collapsed under the weight of unconscious bodies seeking warmth.
I was pressed against Wade’s chest, my leg thrown over his hip, my face buried in the curve of his neck.
His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me against him like he was afraid I’d disappear.
And he was hard.
It was there against my stomach, thick and unmistakable, the evidence of his arousal. Even through the thin cotton of his borrowed sweatpants, I could feel the heat of him, the weight.
I should move.
I should definitely move.
Carefully, I shifted, trying to extract myself without waking him.
He groaned.
The sound went straight through me, a low vibration that I felt in my bones. His arm tightened, pulling me closer, and his hips rolled forward automatically, grinding against me.
“Careful,” he growled, his voice rough with sleep. “Unless you want to deal with the consequences.”
I froze.
Then, because I was apparently possessed by some demon of terrible decisions, I moved again.
Deliberately this time.
His eyes flew open.
Blue. So blue. Dark with want, and with a surprise that looked almost like pain.
“Lu-”
I rocked against him again. My body had taken over, chasing friction I shouldn’t want, heat I shouldn’t crave. My hips moved of their own accord, pressing and retreating, pressing and retreating, finding a rhythm that made sparks shoot down my spine.
Wade’s hand found my hip. Gripped hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, Lu, what are you-”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. I was half-asleep and fully desperate, my body chasing what I’d been denying it for four years.
The ache between my legs was unbearable.
I was wet, had probably been wet since he’d appeared in my shower doorway last night, all tattoos and muscle and water droplets I’d wanted to trace with my tongue.
He moved against me.
Met my rhythm.
His face was buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His hands mapped me, my hip, my thigh, sliding up under my shirt to palm my breast through the thin fabric of my bra. I arched into his touch, a moan escaping me that I couldn’t hold back.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “God, that’s it, Lu. Keep moving just like that.”
I was grinding against him shamelessly now, my clit catching on the ridge of him through too many layers of clothing. It wasn’t enough and it was too much, this desperate friction that was pushing me toward the edge embarrassingly fast.
“Wade-”
“I’ve got you.” His thumb found my nipple through my bra, circling. “I’ve got you, Luve. Just let go.”
I came with a cry I barely managed to muffle against his shoulder. My whole body shook, waves of pleasure crashing through me, and I felt Wade shudder and groan and go rigid against me, his own release hitting him seconds after mine.
We lay there, breathing hard.
Sticky.
Stunned.
I pulled back to look at him. His hair was a mess, his eyes were glazed, and there was a wet spot spreading across the front of his sweatpants.
“That didn’t happen,” I said.
“Lu-”
“Forget this ever happened.”
I got up. Went to the bathroom. Closed the door and leaned against it, my whole body still thrumming, my face burning.
What the fuck was that?
Poppy went to a playdate after breakfast. The storm had passed, leaving devastation in its wake, downed branches, flooded streets, debris scattered across lawns.
The whole town mobilized for cleanup, and somehow I found myself in the middle of it, wielding a rake and trying not to think about what had happened that morning.
Wade followed me everywhere.
Like a lost puppy. A shadow. He helped Mrs. Patterson clear her garden. He carried branches for Mr. Delgado. He climbed onto roofs to check for damage, and every time I looked up, he was looking at me.
“Our Wade is so strong,” Fern sighed, watching him haul a fallen limb that would have taken three normal men to move. “Look at those arms.”
“He’s not our anything,” I muttered.
“He’s got hero written all over him,” Maude declared. “Just like those men in our novels.”
“I bet he could carry a woman right up the stairs,” Doris added, fanning herself.
I gripped my rake so hard my knuckles went white.
We worked all day. By late afternoon, my muscles were screaming and my brain was fried. I needed to check the studio, classes were suspended, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any damage.
“I’ll come with you,” Wade said.
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to.”
The studio was fine. A few branches in the parking lot, some leaves plastered to the windows, but no structural damage. I walked through the empty space, checking the mirrors, the sound system, the hardwood floors.
The door clicked shut behind me.
Wade.
He was leaning against it, arms crossed, watching me with an expression that made my stomach flip.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice high.
He pushed off the door. Walked toward me slowly, deliberately, watching me the way he used to watch a problem he fully intended to solve. His hands found my hips, gripping hard enough to make me gasp.
“What was that this morning?”
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t seem like nothing.”
“It was nothing, Wade, we should forget-”
He yanked me against him. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. I could feel every inch of him, the heat of his body, the hardness that was already building again against my stomach.
“It seemed like you enjoyed it, Luve.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Like you missed me as much as I missed you.”
“You wish that was true.”
And then, pathetically: “Yes. I do. I fucking wish it so damn much it drives me insane.”
His forehead dropped to mine. His breath was ragged against my lips.
“I wish you could feel how badly in love I am with you, Luisa. I’d chase you like the sun chases the moon, all through eternity, if that’s what it takes for you to even look my way.”
I was crying.
I hated him.
But I’d missed him so much.
I grabbed his face and kissed him.
He kissed me back hard enough to bruise, four years of restraint caving in all at once.
His hands were all over me, my hair, my face, dragging down my back to grip my ass and lift me against him.
I locked my ankles at the small of his back and he hauled me across the studio, his mouth never leaving mine.
We hit the barre. The wall. The mirror.
The mirror.
He turned me around so fast I gasped. Pressed my hands against the glass, bent me forward, and I could see everything, my flushed face, my desperate eyes, his body behind me, massive and powerful and wanting.
“Look,” he commanded. His hands were at my waistband, yanking my leggings down. “Look at us.”
I looked.
Watched his face as he freed himself from his jeans, the raw hunger, the desperate need, as he positioned himself behind me. And watched his eyes meet mine in the mirror as he pushed inside me.
“Fuck,” I gasped.
“That’s it.” His voice was wrecked. “That’s my girl. Look how well you take me.”
I could see everything. Every thrust, every expression. The way his jaw locked with restraint and my breasts bounced with each movement. His hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks.
It was filthy.
I loved it.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned. “Missed this so much. Missed you so much.”
“Wade-”
“Look at yourself.” One hand slid around to my front, finding my clit. “Look how pretty you are, taking me like that. Good girl.”
I watched myself fall apart in the mirror. Watched my mouth open on a silent scream. Watched Wade’s face contort with pleasure as he followed me over the edge, his hips stuttering, his body shaking.
He pulled out. Turned me around. Kissed me deeply, tenderly, like I was worth being careful with.
“This will never happen again,” I whispered against his mouth.
He smiled. “Okay.”
Then he kissed me again. Longer this time. His thumb found my clit, circling, and I cried out against his lips.
“After this one,” I managed.
“Okay, Luve.”
He lifted me. My back hit the cold mirror and I gasped at the contrast, his heat in front of me, the glass behind me. He pushed inside me again and I wrapped myself around him, arms and legs, holding on for dear life.
This was different.
Face to face, eyes locked, nowhere to hide.
“I never stopped,” he said against my mouth. “Not for one day, not for one second.”
“Wade-”
“I love you,” with a slow roll of his hips. “I love you,” deeper this time. “I’ve always loved you.”
I was crying again. Kissing him through the tears. Moaning into his mouth as he drove into me, deep and desperate.
“I shouldn’t,” I gasped. “I shouldn’t want this.”
“I know.” His thumb was still working my clit. “But you do. You want me.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” He kissed my tears away. “You love me. You’ve always loved me.”
I couldn’t deny it. Not like this. Not with him inside me, around me, everywhere.
I came with his name on my lips. Felt him follow seconds later, his body shaking, his face buried in my neck. We stayed like that for a long moment, pressed together, hearts pounding, neither of us willing to move.
“After this one,” I whispered again.
“Whatever you say, Luve.” A soft kiss. “Whatever you need.”
I felt like I was floating.
We emerged separately.
I went first, smoothing my hair, straightening my clothes, trying to look like I hadn’t just been thoroughly ravaged against a mirror. My legs were still shaking. My whole body felt like it was glowing from the inside out.
The street outside the studio was still full of people.
Specifically, full of grandmothers.
Agnes, Doris, Fern, and Maude were clustered on the sidewalk, pretending to examine storm damage while very obviously watching the studio door.
When they saw me, their eyes went straight to my hair, which I now realized was nowhere near as smooth as I’d thought, and my flushed cheeks, and the suspicious wrinkle in my shirt.
“Luisa!” Doris called. “Everything alright in there?”
“Fine. Just fine. The studio’s fine.”
“You look a little…” Agnes tilted her head. “Disheveled.”
“It was dusty. Very dusty. Storm dust.”
“Storm dust,” Fern repeated skeptically.
“On your neck?” Maude pointed. “That’s quite the dust mark.”
I slapped my hand over what was definitely a hickey.
The studio door opened behind me. Wade stepped out, his hair somehow even more disheveled than mine, his shirt untucked, a very satisfied smile on his face.
The grandmothers’ eyes went wide.
“Well,” Doris said. “That’s certainly some storm damage.”
“Must have been quite a cleanup effort,” Agnes added.
“Very thorough,” Fern agreed.
“Vigorous, even,” Maude finished.
I turned and fled.