Chapter 35
Lou: Paloma leaning on Clint? It’s awkwardly sweet, like a bad habit that just won’t quit.
Chuck: There’s something endearing in that vulnerability, even if it’s clumsy.
Lou: Sometimes you need a little leaning in to steady the shot.
Chuck: Or to remind you that you’re not in this alone.
She called him right there next to me, without a second thought.
Throughout the entire call, I sat with my hand on her leg, giving it a squeeze here and there to let her know I was proud of her and very much present.
When I said no running, I meant it. We will work through all the hard shit together.
When Paloma ends the call, she holds the phone in her lap for a long while. Eventually she turns to me, hands shaking although her countenance is sure, and I know at this very moment, I never have to worry about her running ever again.
I don't move until I see a tear fall from her eye, and then I'm gathering her up in my arms. I can tell the anger is still there, but it's softer and calmer.
She wipes her nose and mumbles, “It still hurts, but at least I know now.” Paloma rubs the center of her chest with her fingers and then looks up at me. “Thank you.”
Pulling her deeper into me, I whisper into her hair, “I’m so proud of you.” She nuzzles into my chest. “You are allowed to love him and be angry with him. You don't have to pick one.”
“It just sucks. I don't know how to shake the feeling of being left behind, of being forgotten about.” That makes sense to me. I understand the pain she’s healing from in some capacity. I brush her curls out of her face.
“You know, Dove,” I say, as I rub her back, “every time you ran, I was scared you wouldn’t come back. It’s not the running I fear—it's you never coming back to me.”
I watch as understanding blooms over her face, and she nods slightly.
“I didn’t say it to make you feel bad. Asking you to come to Europe with me was too soon, and you running was partly on me too.
But everyone is working through their own things, and we get to choose what’s worth rebuilding.
I love you, you know,” I say, wanting her to know how deeply I’m in this with her.
“I know.” Paloma’s voice is soft and wanting. With a gentle touch, she runs her fingers along my cheek before slowly leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.
This kiss isn't about her ignoring her emotions. It's not about her running. It's her leaning in and letting me be her anchor. I let her lead as she snakes her arms around my neck, pulling me deeper into her, and I fall into her need easily.
I trail my fingers up her hips and then the curve of her spine.
I feel the flutter of her thumping pulse beneath my fingertips, committing every breath and inch of her to memory—committing every moment of her to memory as if it’ll be my last time.
But I know, I know I will spend the rest of my life doing this.
Paloma presses her palms into my chest, pushing me into the cushions of the couch. I slide my hands up the outside of her fleshy thighs when she straddles me. Leaning down she presses her soft lips into mine, and I open for her, inviting her tongue into my mouth.
“I need you. Please.” My dick throbs at her pleas.
“Are you sure, Dove?” I want to be sure she’s okay. There is no part of me that wants to take advantage of her.
“Yes.” She grinds her pussy into me. “It hurt, but I need you. I want this. No more running.”
Running my hands up over her ass, I pull her into me, rocking against her, enjoying her sounds, her moans. Paloma stands long enough to strip off her leggings and panties in one shot, finding my lap as I pull my slacks and boxers down to my thighs. I guess they’re staying on.
Her white top sits at her waist, putting her soft belly and pooch on display.
I love the way her thighs and hips crease.
I want to bite them. “Clint. Inside me. Now.” Her needy command makes me lift her.
Her pussy is soaking, and she slides down my dick slowly.
Paloma’s head is tilted back, her mouth open in an O shape, and this may be the most beautiful I have ever seen her.
Completely unguarded and without the need to filter any part of herself.
She rises to the tip and drops down, impaling herself over and over and over again. She is a fucking glorious sight, one I can’t take my eyes off of. “You’re so pretty, Dove. So fucking stunning.”
This time when she lifts, I thrust into her, hitting the spot deep within that has her eyes rolling back as she digs her nails into my shoulders. “Give it all to me, baby.”
“More,” she begs, her body shuddering as her eyes flutter open, setting her gaze on me.
“I need to see all of you. Let me. Please.” I’ve never been a begging man, but with her, I would crawl on my knees. When she nods, I run my hands up her sides, lifting the shirt off and unclasping her bra.
I lick up the center of her breasts, and when I take each of her pebbled nipples into my mouth, she hitches a breath and moans, “Feels so good.”