Chapter 27 #2
When his lips touch mine, it’s a soft and supple kiss. It’s not demanding like yesterday. It’s careful and easy, and unchallenging. Which makes it almost disappointing.
He pulls back. “Show me how we used to do this.”
“No.” I shake my head. “If you try to be someone you’re not, this won’t work.”
“Are you giving me carte blanche to do whatever I want? Because, Ava, the things I want to do to you right now…” He pushes me flat on my back and climbs over me.
When I bite my lower lip, he groans his appreciation, then lightly traces my lip with a finger.
“Let’s promise to always tell each other what we’re feeling, even if we don’t think it’s what the other wants to hear. I think it’s the only way this will work.” He leans down and skims his tongue under my ear. “And I really want this to work. So no more holding things back, okay?”
“Okay,” I say breathily, even though it makes me a liar. A traitor. A horrible excuse for a wife.
But now is not the time for monumental revelations.
Not when the heat between us is scorching through my sleep shirt.
I’m going to stick with the original plan, because right now I can’t think of anything else but how his hand is slipping under my shirt.
How his eyes are revering me. How his breath is flowing over my ear. How my body is reacting to his.
Our hands are all over each other, and before I have a chance to overthink anything, my shirt, his pants, and our underwear are being tossed to the floor.
My craving for him only deepens when I realize he smells like the old Trevor.
He must have showered before bed, using the same body wash and shampoo we’ve shared for years.
It’s like having both of them together at once.
That realization has my body thrumming with desire. Buzzing in anticipation.
He doesn’t hold back, doing all the things he did to me yesterday and more.
Because this time, his mouth travels down on me.
All the way down. He kisses my thighs, the inside of my knees, my ankles.
His scruff tickles then becomes abrasive.
It heightens my arousal and has me reeling.
By the time he’s settling between my legs, I’m practically begging him to put his tongue on my clit.
He stops and looks up at me. “Do you want me to do this, Ava?”
“Yes,” I say with zero hesitation.
“Then say it.”
I’m shocked. I’m embarrassed. I’m utterly turned on. But I’m too shy to say the words.
“Ava,” he commands in a sultry, deep, throaty voice I’ve never heard before. “Tell me what you want from me.”
I press the back of my head into the pillow. “I want your tongue on me.”
He squeezes my outer thighs. “Where do you want it? Tell me.”
I lift my hips. “There.”
He chuckles and then presses his face into the apex of my thighs.
Part of me wonders how he knows how to do this so expertly.
It can’t be his subconscious. He never did it like this, feasting on me like he’s a starving man and I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet.
The other part of me—the part that was fantasizing about him the moment he walked in the room—is just happy it’s happening.
Because he’s playing me like a finely tuned piano, his fingers hitting just the right keys, his tongue playing the perfect notes, and I can’t get enough.
He brings me to a crescendo so quickly, it’s beyond surprising.
It’s exhilarating.
With my insides still pulsing, he enters me. “Fuck, Ava, that was… Jesus…”
He thrusts into me a few times, then pulls my right leg up over his shoulder, skimming a finger along my inner knee as desire flames in his eyes.
After a few more thrusts, he pulls out, flips me onto my stomach, lifts my hips and enters me from behind.
It feels divine. Animalistic. Him inside me this way. I’m barely recovering from my first orgasm, when I can already feel myself building up to a second.
With one hand gripping my hip, his other reaches around and cups a breast. All thoughts escape from my brain except for what he’s doing to me. Because what he’s doing is something I’ve only read about in books. Something I thought wasn’t even seeded in reality. But here I am...
Building.
He pinches a nipple.
Flying.
He goes lower and rubs circles on my clit.
Falling.
“Oh god… yes… Trev…” I’m eating the pillow and fisting the bed sheets.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” he shouts behind me as we fall into synchronous bliss.
A few minutes later, after catching our breath, he’s lying beside me on his back, staring at the ceiling. I’m still on my stomach trying to recover.
Then suddenly, he jumps out of bed, and I have déjà vu. Is he leaving? Again?
But then I hear water running in the bathroom. And he’s back on the bed, using a warm washcloth between my legs.
I swallow tears, because, yes, there’s still a little bit of the old Trevor in there.
“You don’t have to go back to the other room,” I say softly.
“Good, because I wasn’t planning on it.”
I smile at the mercurial man lying next to me, loving this mixture of my two husbands—the old and the new.
“Ava?”
“Mmmm?” I mumble lazily, running a finger along his largest scar that spans well over six inches from the side of his left nipple until it disappears beneath his arm.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
I chuckle. “What is it exactly that you think we’ve been doing?”
“I mean an actual date. Dinner. Flowers. Me holding the door open for you. Shit like that.” He pinches his chin in thought. “I’m thinking bowling.”
Now I’m full-on laughing. “You want to take me bowling?”
“Sure. Why not? Did we never used to?”
“About a million years ago.”
“Say yes, Ava.”
After what we just did, I’m fairly sure this man could talk me into running over hot coals. “Yes.”
Strong arms wrap around me, and though I’m pretty sure it’s not physically possible, I swear I fall asleep with a smile on my face.